


The Tourney of the Crossing

by HedgeKnight



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-07-02
Updated: 2016-08-30
Packaged: 2018-07-19 17:20:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 42
Words: 40,155
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7370662
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HedgeKnight/pseuds/HedgeKnight
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This story focuses on an alternate universe where Aerys went off the deep end in a brighter and warmer way.  This story is part fanfiction and part AAR, drawing on characters from the CK2 AGOT game.  Characters may die, characters may live; some characters just ended up not being born.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue I: Aerys Targaryen

# The Last of Valyria

## The Tourney of the Crossing

### Prologue I: King Aerys II “The Mad King” Targaryen, 27 November 282 AC

Rhaegar Targaryen. The name echoed in Aerys’s mind as he walked into the throne room. His eldest son, his heir. His most dangerous opponent. More dangerous than those traitorous rebels in Westeros. The only good things about Rhaegar were his blood and the fact that Rhaegar had helped to weed out the traitors by kidnapping the Northern bitch. Aerys could only hope that Viserys and the next child would be better.

“Your Grace, Prince Rhaegar and your forces are currently headed towards the Stormlands; over fifteen thousand soldiers are accompanying him.” Rossart, his Hand of the King, said. “Robert’s forces will stand no chance against him.”

“And the Gold Cloaks? We cannot let King’s Landing be exposed to danger, the traitors cannot be allowed a chance to assassinate me. How many Gold Cloaks are here?” Aerys asked.

“About five thousand, Your Grace. Fully enough to withstand a siege.” Rossart answered.

“Not enough, order Stokeworth to get more guards recruited.” Aerys commanded. “Now.”

Rossart hurried out of the room as Aerys took his seat on the Iron Throne of his dynasty and surveyed the throne room. It was hard to believe that a traitor had been boiled inside of his own armor only a few months ago. The servants had kept it clean…too clean. It should have been left as a sign to show traitors what to expect if they ever threatened the dragons.

The only other people in the room were Ser Jaime Lannister, Varys, and Ser Willem Darry, all of whom were rightfully bowing to their king.

“Possible traitors, all of them.” The voice said. “The son of a man who refuses your call to arms. A foreigner. Only Willem Darry comes from a family who follows their king.” None of the three seemed to hear the voice; only Aerys. His tormentor was correct; he knew…they would have to prove their loyalty.

“Lannister, stand outside of the throne room. I will not risk having anyone overhear my words today.” Aerys ordered.

Ser Jaime stood. “Yes, Your Grace.” The teenage boy, left the room, closing the large door behind him.

At least this would keep the youngest of the traitors from hearing him.

“Tywin is obviously not loyal to you, King Aerys. Northmen, Riverlanders, Westermen, Valemen, Dornish…they all need to be put in their place.” The voice told him. “Starting with the Lannisters.”

“You are Aerys the Wise, Aerys the Great….” A second voice added, softer than the first. “You must get rid of these traitors, for the good of the realm.”

“You are right. I must deal with these traitors in a wise way!” Aerys answered the voices.

Varys seemed unfazed by Aerys’s words, as he should be, Aerys noticed. But Willem Darry got a confused look on his face.

“Darry, stand.” Aerys ordered.

Ser Darry stood. “Yes, Your Grace?”

“Your family has remained loyal against the traitor Tully.” Aerys acknowledged. “But, even one disloyal Darry would force my hand, if only for my own protection. Your brother Jonothor is on my Kingsguard, but, you being a traitor would cast doubt on his own loyalty; as well as the loyalty of your father and brother. Should they face the same champion that defeated Rickard Stark?” Aerys couldn’t help but grin as the fear showed plain in Willem Darry’s eyes.

“No, Your Grace, the Darry family will always remain loyal to the Targaryen family, no matter the enemy.” Willem said quickly.

“Perhaps he should be allowed to prove his loyalty.” The softer voice advised. “He is one of the few whose family has not proven to be traitors so far.”

“But, he must prove it by showing that he values the true king of Westeros over anything.” The first, harsher voice claimed. “Have him slay an enemy of the realm. Elia Martell.”

“If Elia Martell were to die, the disgusting Dornish may not follow the true king.” Aerys muttered.

“Yes, Your Grace, I will proudly defend Lady Elia Martell with my sword and my life.” Darry said proudly. “No man will get past me to harm her or your grandchildren.”

“Fool!” The harsher voice shouted.

Echoing the voice in his head, Aerys shouted at Darry, “Fool!”

“Your Grace?” Darry seemed confused, the idiot.

“Elia Martell must be killed.” The harsher voice said. “She is of the Dornish, a land of traitor and snakes. Even her brother is known by the name of Red Viper. Have Darry prove his loyalty by slaying her. The Dornish are the ones who would most support Rhaegar in a coup against you.”

“But keep Rhaegar’s Dornish spawn alive, under the threat of their death if Rhaegar or the Dornish betray you.” The softer voice ordered.

“Marrying your heir to the brown bitch is why the gods have cursed your wife’s womb!” The harsher voice practically screamed in Aerys’s head. “Her death is the only way to ensure the survival of the child growing in your wife’s womb! They’ve been poisoning her for years, they killed your daughters to prevent any marriage for Rhaegar outside of Dorne! They killed most of your sons, they almost killed little Viserys! Even after you’ve done so much for them, the cravens use stealth to slay dragons! Show them what happens when you wake the true dragon!

“Slay the whore.” Aerys ordered Darry, stirred into hatred and anger. “Kill Elia Martell, or every Darry will be meet the same fate as the Starks. If you refuse this, if you fail, if you even breathe a word to me before the this is done, I will force your entire family to watch as each one melts. Starting with you. You are dismissed until you return with the head of Elia Martell. Leave my grandchildren alive.”

Darry, terrified despite his strength and years of training, immediately ran out of the room.

Throughout all of this, the eunuch Varys remained silent.

“Eunuch, I have orders for you as well.” Aerys said, suddenly more quiet.

“A mere king cannot hope to re-conquer an entire realm full of traitors.” The softer voice whispered.

“My orders must be carried out quickly and without any leaks of information.” Aerys continued as the voice spoke.

“Yes, Your Grace.” Varys replied.

“The Lannisters must be made to bow. Remove the lion’s claws.” The softer voice said.

“First, send a message to Tywin Lannister. Inform him that, should he refuse to publicly declare his intention to fight for the throne’s safety, his son Jaime will be fed to the fire. Once the war is done, have everything set up for an assassination, to leave only his dwarf brat in control of Casterly Rock.” Aerys ordered.

“Your ingrate son and the traitorous Dornish snakes must be dealt with.” The softer voice pointed out.

“Second, send messages to Doran Martell and Rhaegar Targaryen. Tell them that Elia Martell has been executed and that her children will meet a worse fate if they try to avenge her or question me.”

“A king is not enough…you must not simply be ‘Aerys the Great’, king of Westersos. You must be a god. A dragon. Aerys the Dragon God.” The harsher voice urged.

“Third, I expect some wildfire ready for me to drink tonight. I will do what Brightflame was too weak for. I will ascend as a dragon, a god. Now, you are dismissed to your duty, Varys. Do it quickly.” Aerys ordered.

“It will be done quickly and efficiently, Your Grace. For the realm.” Varys started to leave the room.

As Varys walked away, Aerys shouted after him proudly. “I will rise as the truest and most powerful dragon in history, Spider! I will bring fire and blood down on the enemies of the realm! Fire and blood!” Aerys slammed his fist down on the arm of the throne as he proclaimed his family’s words…and then immediately screamed in pain as an iron point stabbed into his hand.

Varys stopped in his steps and turned to face the king. “Shall I send for Grand Maester Pycelle, Your Grace?” The eunuch asked.

“No, no, you must hurry to your orders!” Aerys replied. “This wound, and all others, will be gone once I drink the wildfire. I will survive and ascend as a god, unlike Brightflame. Even the voices will be gone….”

The eunuch exited the throne room.

Aerys laughed happily as he sat on the throne, in private. So long as he survived the day, he knew he’d never face any danger again. As soon as the sun began to set, he would make his dramatic entrance to the world. The return of dragons onto the world’s stage. And the voices would be silent….


	2. Prologue II: Rhaegar Targaryen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is my first story on this site, so thanks to everyone who has taken the time to read it so far. I plan to put up the three prologue chapters today, and maybe the first chapter, as well. Beyond that, I have two actual chapters done, but I'm still editing them and changing some things. I plan to put up at least one chapter a day, sometimes more.

### Prologue II: King Rhaegar Targaryen, 10 April 283 AC

A fever dream of memories flooded Rhaegar’s mind as he rested in Stonehelm. Flashes of the battle outside the castle he now rested in kept going through his brain. Rhaegar would have been run through by Richard Horpe’s sword if not for Jonothor Darry beheading Horpe. Thanks to Ser Jonothor and Ser Jon Connington, Rhaegar was able to kill Stannis Baratheon and his bodyguards in one battle, leaving Rhaegar with nothing more than a wound on his left arm, which would heal in time. As the battle was ending, Rhaegar even caught sight of Robert Baratheon; Rhaegar fully expected to die when Robert raised his hammer to kill him, but Jon Connington saved Rhaegar again by throwing his sword; though Robert was uninjured by the thrown sword, he was distracted long enough for Rhaegar to strike with his own blade, killing the possible usurper.

Rhaegar woke up as Stonehelm’s maester entered the room, Ser Jonothor Darry closely following the maester. “How are you feeling, Your Grace?”

Rhaegar took a few moments before he answered. “The pain’s mostly gone. Thank you for your help, Maester Beomar.”

The maester asked, “Would you like any milk of the poppy, again, Your Grace?”

Rhaegar shook his head and got up, his left arm heavily bandaged. “Thank you, but no, I must go on to my business, I’ve been here too long.”

“You’ve only been here a couple of days.” The maester pointed out.

“Yes, yes, a couple of days too many.” Rhaegar replied. “Ser Jonothor, you and Ser Jon Connington will ride with me ahead of the soldiers. I’m leaving Ser Jacelyn Bywater in charge of the soldiers as they return to King’s Landing to disperse.”

After about an hour, Rhaegar was mounted on his horse and on his way out of the county of Stonehelm. With Connington on his left and Darry on his right, he began speaking once they were a good distance from the castle. “Jon, I need you to carry information to King’s Landing.” Rhaegar had given this plenty of thought; after his father’s death, he’d tried for peace with Robert, which failed spectacularly. But, with Robert’s death and the message of peace terms from Robert’s younger brother Renly, he’d hoped that this time he’d be successful with the other Lords Paramount.

“Yes, Your Grace?” Jon nodded. “I’ll deliver any message you give, and I’ll be honored to do it.”

Rhaegar couldn’t help but notice the weird look in Jon’s eyes whenever he talked to the younger man. He tried to ignore it politely. “I’ll need word sent to the Tully-Stark-Baratheon-Arryn alliance. They need to be informed that they will be collectively forgiven and that Lyanna Stark is safe; on my word as king, Eddard Stark may safely come to King’s Landing to see proof of his sister’s safety. Also inform that alliance that I apologize for my father’s cruelty and will devote my reign to rebuilding good relations with the kingdoms. I need letters sent to Dorne apologizing for my father’s assassination of my wife, Elia Martell, with assurances that my son Aegon will be king after me, and an invitation for Prince Oberyn Martell to come to King’s Landing to sit the Small Council and let my heir squire for him.”

“Of course, my King.” Jon replied. “Is there anything else?”

“Also, get what information you can while you’re in King’s Landing. Find out as much as you can about any mistakes my father may have hidden; I leave you in charge of the city while I’m gone. Ser Jonothor will accompany me to Dorne as my guard. I’ve left Lady Lyanna in the Tower of Joy too long.” Rhaegar smiled. “It’s past time I returned to her.”


	3. Prologue III: Arthur Dayne

### Prologue III: Ser Arthur “the Sword of the Morning” Dayne, 4 July 283 AC

Ser Arthur was sitting against the outside wall of the Tower of Joy, cleaning his sword Dawn. Arthur had been a member of the Kingsguard for a long time, and had been the best friend of Rhaegar for even longer. At 24 years of age, he was already famed as the greatest swordsman in the realm, and he’d devoted his life to protecting Rhaegar. Under Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, Arthur Dayne shone the brightest of the seven Kingsguard. That wasn’t to say he lacked respect for his sworn brothers, though. Oswell Whent was well known for his kindness and reputation as a true knight, and he’d done much to welcome Arthur into this sacred order. Barristan Selmy, known as the Bold, was a man in his forties, who fought with the energy of a man in his twenties, though Arthur doubted the man’s intelligence sometimes. Jonothor Darry and Lewyn Martell were two of the fastest swordsmen in Westeros, both of whom had looked forward to Rhaegar taking the crown for many years. And, most recent and youngest of the Kingsguard was Jaime Lannister; though Arthur wasn’t always sure about the kid, he had done what he could to teach the inexperienced boy about how serious the position he’d been given was. Besides, Arthur was glad to no longer be the youngest man in the order. Young Jaime did seem to have trouble masking his emotions about the Mad King, but that problem was gone, thanks to some wildfire.

While he hadn’t seen his friend Rhaegar in months, as he was assigned to protect Lyanna Stark, he was fine with this role.

A few hours ago, as Lyanna began to give birth, Arthur had left the room to take over guarding the entrance from his fellow Kingsguard, Ser Oswell Whent. Now, as far as Arthur knew, Oswell was standing outside the door of Lyanna’s room while Lord Commander Gerold Hightower sat high up in the tower with a Myrish lens, keeping an eye out for anyone on their way. They all hoped that Rhaegar or maybe another member of the Kingsguard would arrive with word of the war; but they feared the arrival of enemy forces.

Arthur looked up as a shadow covered him. Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, the famous White Bull, stood over Arthur with a look of worry on his face. Oswell was close behind Gerold. The White Bull, with a pained look on his wrinkled face, said, “Arthur…Rhaegar is almost here. I’m pretty sure that the two men who are approaching are King Rhaegar and Ser Jonothor Darry.”

“That’s great.” Arthur smiled. “Rhaegar and Lyanna will be overjoyed to see each other.”

“That’s…probably not going to happen, my friend.” Oswell sighed. “You’re the one Rhaegar considers the closest to him. So, we think you should be the one to give him the news.”

Gerold nodded. “The tragedy and trauma of Duskendale drove Rhaegar’s father off the deep end, taking him from flights of fancy to hearing voices and cruelty. I can only ask you to help him with this news.”

“News?” Arthur’s smile was gone.

“We’ve failed our mission, Ser Dayne.” Oswell explained. “Lady Stark has not been harmed by sword nor spear…but she is dying, and her child was born dead.”

Arthur nodded and stood up, sheathing Dawn. “I will do what I can.”

Within minutes, Rhaegar and Jonothor were dismounting their horses. Rhaegar seemed happy as he approached the three Kingsguard at the tower’s entrance, but he seemed confused as soon as he saw the frowns. “Arthur? Lord Commander Gerold? Oswell? What’s wrong?”

“Lady Stark is…not well, Your Grace.” Arthur said gravely. “Follow me.”

Arthur couldn’t help but notice the fear plain on his friend’s face. The Sword of the Morning turned around and led his king up to Lyanna’s room. As soon as he entered, he was hit with the strong smell of blood…blood and roses. In the darkness of the room, it took a moment for him to realize how much blood was covering the bed that Lyanna lay in, barely breathing, surrounded by blue roses.

As Rhaegar stepped past Arthur to stand by Lyanna’s bedside, the poor, dying young girl looked up from the poor, dead thing she seemed to be cradling. Sobbing and with feverish eyes, she said in a thin, exhausted, and strained voice, “Dead…our poor, beautiful child…is dead.”

Rhaegar held the girl’s hand as the light in her eyes slowly dimmed, and, with her dying breath, she murmured something that Arthur couldn’t hear.

Arthur stood there for what felt like an eternity, afraid to even breathe too loudly as Rhaegar held Lyanna’s hand and wept. Eventually, Rhaegar turned to look at Arthur, and said one of the last things that Arthur hoped to hear. “Ser Arthur, the dragon must have three heads.”

“The girl is dead, Rhaegar. The child is dead.” Arthur pointed out. He tried to assure his friend, “You said she was the only hope. But, I guarantee you that young Aegon will be able to protect the realm on his own when he comes of age.”

Unfortunately, Rhaegar didn’t seem to take any of Arthur’s words to heart, practically ignoring most of them. Rhaegar released Lyanna’s hand. “I’ll put Oswell in charge of escorting her body to Winterfell. But, as king, I owe it to the realm to make sure that the dragon has three heads. My Aegon is the Prince that was Promised, and my Rhaenys will be at his side. But, there must be a Visenya. The fact that the child was stillborn only means that the prophecy intended for the third head to be from a different woman than my lovely Lyanna. Arthur, you and I will return to King’s Landing with Lord Commander Gerold; Ser Jonothor will escort Lyanna’s ladies-in-waiting and the Maester Klaudin home.”

Arthur sighed and nodded. “Of course, my friend.” So long as Rhaegar could contain his obsession with this prophecy to just marrying some beautiful young woman, it would be harmless…hopefully.

As Arthur and Gerold rode away from the tower with Rhaegar, Rhaegar was announcing his plans to Arthur and Gerold. Apparently, he’d decided that he’d send a raven to Arthur’s father when he got to King’s Landing, requesting to marry Arthur’s sister Ashara; Rhaegar figured that the Daynes were an ancient and legendary first house of heroes, so the death of Lyanna must be a sign from the gods that Ashara would be a better choice for the mother of the dragon’s third head.


	4. Chapter 1: Aegon Targaryen I

### Chapter 1: Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone, 14 July 298 AC

The biggest tournament in the realm, huge enough to rival even the legendary Tourney of Harrenhal from nearly twenty years before; Lord Stevron Frey claimed that his Tourney of the Crossing would be famous throughout the realm for centuries to come. It was scheduled to begin on the third of September, for the first Name-Day of his grandson and heir, Tyros Frey.

The tourney would be extremely expensive, but the Freys had at least used some intelligence in it. Six houses, by each offering ten thousand gold dragons, would have their leaders sit in the places of highest honor during the tourney. Naturally, quite a few wealthy lords saw this as a brilliant idea, and more than enough offered large sums of gold more than the asking price in exchange for being picked over others. As far as the young prince Aegon knew, none of these six chosen benefactors had revealed their identities as of yet. But, it was expected that Aegon’s father, King Rhaegar, would have the place of highest honor.

Well, the place of highest honor until Aegon won the knight’s melee and joust, of course. He would win the melee and be known as the greatest warrior in the seven kingdoms; more importantly, he would also win the joust and name Rhaenys Targaryen, the Fireknight, as his Queen of Love and Beauty. He hoped that his younger brother Jon would win the squire’s melee, but that wasn’t a major focus of his fantasy for the tourney. Aegon was sixteen now, a man grown; it was past time that he earned the reputation of Baelon the Brave, of Aemon the Dragonknight, and of Daemon the Rogue Prince.

“Egg, stop daydreaming and get out of the sun.” Ser Gerold Dayne, the Darkstar, ordered, grabbing Aegon by the arm to drag him off of the training field and in the direction of the Red Keep. “We need a Prince Egg, not a boiled Egg.”

“Besides, a boiled egg wouldn’t be able to pay us.” The Hound, Ser Sandor Clegane added with a laugh.

Ignoring the Hound, Darkstar released Aegon and led him and the Hound into the Red Keep. “King Rhaegar wants to speak with you.”

“About the Crossing Tourney?” Aegon asked.

“No, about your idiot siblings.” Gerold deadpanned. “How the hell am I supposed to know? Whent told me to bring you to the doorway of the small council chamber and then to bugger off. Apparently I’m not invited.” There was a note of bitterness in that last sentence, Aegon noted.

It was a shame that Gerold hadn’t been invited; he was the most reliable of Aegon’s companions. Garlan and Sandor had also always been loyal…but Garlan and Sandor weren’t Gerold. Garlan was always uncomfortable around Ser Oberyn, over that issue with Garlan’s elder brother Willas; and Garlan was the ‘pure’ sort. And one of Sandor’s best traits was that he always did precisely what was asked, and was fun to go out for drinks or women with…but, Sandor was never one for subtlety. Gerold, on the other hand, besides his irrational hatred of most Daynes of Starfall, due to his status as being from a ‘lesser branch’, was always the one Aegon could most rely on. As ruthless as he was intelligent, Gerold was truly a dangerous man; even Oberyn admitted so.

Once they reached the doorway into the chamber, where old Ser Oswell Whent waited, the Hound and Darkstar quietly left, probably on their way to the Street of Silk again.

With Aegon’s arrival, Oswell took off his helmet and bowed. “Prince Aegon, I’m glad those two have kept you safe. How’s the day treating you?”

“No need to bow, Ser Oswell.” Aegon shrugged. “It’s been pretty boring. I just spent a couple of hours in the practice yard, and then took a break to watch other people train. What about you, what’d you do?”

“Your father sent me to speak with some gold cloaks, so I had to walk through Flea Bottom.” Oswell stood up straight and took off his helmet, the black bat of his family emblazoned on the front of it. “Some orphaned kid tried to pickpocket me.”

Aegon frowned. “Pickpocketing a member of the Kingsguard seems like a bad idea.”

“Well, what could I do to punish the child? Tell his parents?” Oswell started laughing at his own joke. “I just gave him some coins for food. Besides, I pitied him. He was a six-year-old in Flea Bottom, so he must have been going through a mid-life crisis.”

Ignoring Oswell’s attempts at comedy, Aegon walked into the small council chamber, where most of the seats at the table were filled already. His father, King Rhaegar Targaryen, sat at the head of the table. On the left side, from the spot closest to the king to the spot farthest, were: Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, Aegon’s elder sister; Queen Ashara Dayne, Aegon’s step-mother; Ser Oberyn Martell, the Red Viper, Aegon’s uncle for whom he’d been squire and the Hand of the King; and then any empty chair.

On Rhaegar’s right, the chairs were occupied by: Lord Paramount Eddard Stark, the idiot Northman Master-of-Laws who was too honorable to fart; Lord Paramount Doran Martell of Dorne, the elder of Aegon’s uncles and Master of Coin; Grand Maester Pycelle, the weak old fool; Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, the White Bull of the Kingsguard; and the eunuch Varys, known as the Spider for his web of informants.

Across from Rhaegar, at the other end of the table was Ser Jacelyn Bywater, commander of the Gold Cloaks.

Aegon sat in the empty seat next to Oberyn; Ser Oswell stood behind the king as his guard.

“Egg, thank you for being on time.” Rhaenys said, dripping with sarcasm.

“Give me a break, I literally just found out about it.” Aegon replied.

Ignoring his eldest children, Rhaegar began, “I don’t expect the Tourney of the Crossing to be news to any of you. Lord Stevron Frey appointed each of his guests of honor, including myself, about a week ago. Each guest of honor will be allowed to choose eight knights for the joust, eight fighters, and four squires for the melee from their region; as king, I’m responsible for choosing an additional eight knights, eight fighters, and four squires from Dorne. Naturally, this means that I’ll need someone to leave in charge of King’s Landing while I’m gone.”

“Children of Summer playing at war….” Stark muttered. Then, he spoke up. “I’ll gladly stay behind.”

“Thank you, Lord Stark.” Rhaegar nodded. “Lord Varys, Lord Commander Gerold, Lord Doran, Lord Oberyn, Ser Jacelyn, would you four be willing to stay with Lord Stark to help him in this duty?”

“Gladly, Your Grace, my skills are best used in King’s Landing.” The eunuch agreed, with a giggle that disgusted Aegon.

“My Gold Cloaks will continue to keep order.” Ser Jacelyn said.

“I assume my White Cloaks will join you on your journey, but I will ensure that King’s Landing remains safe for the royal family.” The White Bull said.

“I was never one for tourneys anyway, Your Grace.” Doran seemed fine with it, as well.

Lastly, Oberyn stood and patted Aegon’s head with a laugh before he spoke. “I couldn’t compete, anyway. It’d make the little Egg cry if I embarrassed him in a joust.”

His face red, Aegon said nothing.

“Thank you, thank you all.” Rhaegar said. “We’ll be leaving at dawn, the day after tomorrow. Until then, I’ll be deciding which Crownlanders will compete; Lords Doran and Oberyn will help me to decide which Dornishmen will compete. I apologize, Lord Doran, but the Freys asked that I not list any women of Dorne to joust or fight in the melee; I’m sure that Oberyn’s daughters will be disappointed.”

At this, Aegon’s head immediately turned to look at Rhaenys for her reaction. Surprisingly, she seemed unfazed. “Considering that she was third in the Tourney of Rosby last year, I would have expected Rhaenys to be competing….” Aegon said with confusion.

“What, little brother? Did you want me to crown you my Queen of Love and Beauty?” Rhaenys gave a short laugh. “No, I care for you too much to publicly shame you with defeat. But, if you keep amusing me, I might cheer you on. But you’ll have to share my favor with Jon.”

Aegon decided to go back to silence. At least the only other person she’d cheer would be Jon. Rhaenys was always more motherly to their younger brother, and, besides, Aegon knew he’d be cheering the twelve-year-old squire on, nearly as loudly as Rhaenys would. It was a shame he’d squired to Bonifer Hasty of the Kingsguard, Aegon would have liked to have his favorite little brother as his squire.

“Aegon, you will be allowed to compete, of course.” Rhaegar said. “But, I do request that you use your own personal sigil, as I will be using the family sigil in the position of honor. Beyond that, everyone except Lords Oberyn and Doran are dismissed.”

With that, Aegon and Oswell left the room and went in search of Aegon’s three other guards: Gerold ‘Darkstar’ Dayne, Sandor ‘the Hound’ Clegane, and Garlan the Gallant Tyrell. Aegon expected to find Garlan in the garden with Daenerys and the other two in some brothel.

As he walked, he thought of which design he’d use for his personal sigil. There was an attractive young Dornishwoman who he’d gotten to put his family’s sigil on shields a few times before.


	5. Chapter 2: Rhaenys Targaryen I

### Chapter 2: Princess Rhaenys Targaryen I, 14 July 298 AC

With only her uncles and father left in the room, Rhaenys was the last to walk out. The Kignsguard assigned to her, Ser Barristan ‘the Bold’ Selmy, was waiting at the door. “Ser Barristan, thank you for waiting. Where have my cousins gone?”

“Lady Nymeria said that she had to pick up new dresses from the seamstress, Princess.” Ser Barristan informed.

Meaning Nymeria would be spending the day trying to hide as many knives as possible in each dress.

“Lady Tyene said that she is delivering a gift of pastries to the office of Grand Maester Pycelle, and then that she’d spend some time praying in the sept.” The Kingsguard continued.

Meaning that a few of Pycelle’s poisons would go missing today.

“And Lady Sarella is teaching your younger brother Jon about archery.”

At least that was true. “Do you mind waiting in this hall a bit longer, good Ser? I was hoping for a word with Uncle Oberyn after he finishes with father and Uncle Doran.”

“It is no trouble at all.” Ser Barristan answered. “I live to serve.”

That was one of the best things about Ser Barristan, in Rhaenys’s opinion. He would do anything for Rhaenys and her family, whether it was to fight a master swordsman or simply stand in place all day. And, as long as Rhaenys never mentioned the strange looks he gave her step-mother Ashara, Rhaenys didn’t expect anything would upset the man. “And you serve well.” Rhaenys patted the knight’s arm.

Within a couple of hours, Oberyn walked out into the hallway. The infamous Red Viper stopped right outside of the door. “Rhaenys?”

Rhaenys decided to cut straight to the point. “Uncle, is the list of competitors finished?”

“Nearly,” Oberyn shrugged. “The Crownlander competitors have been decided and will be sent ravens to invite them, but the Dornish list is two short; it was difficult to decide who should represent which region, with the number of men from various regions that live in King’s Landing. I assume you want to snake your way into the tourney?”

Ignoring the question, Rhaenys asked, “Uncle Oberyn, is Jon going to be in the squire’s melee?”

“Yeah, he’ll be competing for the Crowlands.” Oberyn answered. “You’ll be cheering him on, I’m sure.”

“And Aegon will be competing in the joust and melee?” Rhaenys asked.

“Of course, he should do well.” Oberyn said proudly; naturally, he seemed to want his nephew and squire to be a man with a reputation to rival his own.

“Dorne needs a mystery knight.” Rhaenys announced, earning a look of worry from Barristan and amusement from Oberyn.

“And that’ll be you?” Oberyn responded. “Two Targaryens I’ve trained, doubtlessly you’ll both do well.”

“No, no, it’ll be you.” Rhaenys corrected. “The main representative from Dorne will be a mystery knight, while the main representative from the Crownlands will be the crown prince.”

“Seems like a very obvious mystery knight.” Ser Barristan interrupted.

“Most are either obvious or nobodies.” Rhaenys pointed out.

“Very well, Rhae.” Oberyn agreed. “I’ll be your mystery knight. Though don’t expect to be Queen of Love and Beauty when I win.”


	6. Chapter 3: Orys Targaryen I

### Chapter 3: Prince Orys Targaryen I, 15 July 298 AC

The godswood of King’s Landing was silent, save for the soft sounds of cloth on metal as Lord Eddard Stark and Prince Orys Targaryen polished their blades. Both had their eyes cast down to their swords as they sat, though the thirteen-year-old Orys occasionally turned his head to look at Lord Stark’s Valyrian Steel great-sword, Ice.

Orys was the second son of King Rhaegar Targaryen, and the firstborn child of Queen Ashara Dayne. He’d inherited the hair colors of both of his parents; mostly the silver of the Targaryens, but with a few thin dark streaks spread throughout.

According to Lord Stark, Orys was given to him to foster as another form of apology for some offense that Orys’s father had done to the Starks in the past; Orys never claimed to be the brightest candle in the shop, but the subject seemed too personal to ask much about. Besides, Orys never had many reasons to complain about serving Lord Stark.

After what felt like an eternity of silence, Lord Stark spoke. “Orys, I want you to go to the Tourney of the Crossing.”

Orys looked up at Lord Stark quizzically. “You always say that playing at war is for warriors of summer.”

“I did.” Lord Stark acknowledged. “But, you are a prince, Orys. You will rule your own keep in time; if the king does not make sure of this, you have my word that I will grant you a plot of land. You’re too young to fight in a melee for knights, but a melee for squires would serve as experience.”

“But I thought that only four squires from each region could compete…haven’t four already been chosen from the Crownlands?”

“Yes,” Lord Stark answered as he stood up, sheathing his great-sword. “But, if you tell the guest of honor from the North that I request a space for you, you will be allowed to compete.” Lord Stark started to walk away from the heart tree of the godswood.

Orys followed closely after him. “But, I’ve never even been to the North, Lord Stark.”

The lord paramount of the North brushed the excuse away. “You pray to the Old Gods and you serve me as loyally as if you were my own son; train with Robb today and the two of you will leave for the Crossing tomorrow. You may make the journey with Prince Aegon if you wish.”

Orys wasn’t sure which part of the offer was worse: living on the Frey family’s lands, getting beaten in a melee with older squires, or having to spend time with Aegon. “Are you sure, my lord? Would it not serve me better to remain in King’s Landing with you for training? Robb’s fifteen, he’d do much better in the melee.”

“Nonsense, no need to be so humble.” Lord Stark replied.

Orys stayed silent as they walked to the training grounds. If he had to go, he’d try to journey to the Crossing with someone other than Aegon.

“I remember that Robb said he would be practicing with his sword today…Orys, find him and bring him back here. I need to make sure you both get some practice in before the day’s end.” Lord Stark ordered.

“Yes, my lord.” Orys started walking through the training grounds, keeping an eye out for Robb.

“Draw your sword,” a familiar voice called out.

Before Orys could react to the challenge, a body slammed into his back, knocking him to the ground. “Aegon….” He muttered from the dirt.

“Little brother, too slow as always.” Aegon said, with that mix of disappointment and amusement that Orys was so used to hearing. “Stark still hasn’t taught you anything.”

Orys managed to push the body off of him; it seemed like the man he’d been hit with had been knocked out cold by a blow to the head.

“Would you help him to his feet, Darkstar?” Aegon requested of his companion.

Orys felt a hand grab his upper arm and pull him to his feet. Looking up, he had the un-fortune of getting a good look at Ser Gerold Dayne. Nearly twice Orys’s age, Darkstar always had that gross grin on his face whenever Aegon was mocking Orys. Even worse, with Darkstar’s silver hair with a black streak, Orys had heard plenty of comparisons between himself and Darkstar; but Orys would never be a monster like him. Even Darkstar’s eyes were as black as his soul.

“The Northern brat is giving me that look again, Egg.” Darkstar told Aegon, barely containing a laugh. “Give me your knife, I’ll take off the false dragon’s crown.”

Orys’s eyes widened, paralyzed with fear.

“He’s the blood of Dayne as much as he’s the blood of Targaryen, Gerold.” Aegon pointed out. “Much as I’d love to get rid of some Northerners, I can’t have a kinslayer in my company.”

“A Dayne of Starfall,” The cruel Darkstar pointed out, his vise-like grip still on Orys’s arm. “I’m a Dayne of High Hermitage, it would barely count. Besides, I only mean to cut the lad’s hair. The silver and black are the only parts of him from Valyria or Dorne. Those and the eyes, but I’ll leave him with them…for now.”

Aegon shrugged and tossed his knife; Orys watched it spin in the air, until Darkstar caught it by the handle.

“I’m going to let go of your arm. If you keep trying to escape, the knife will go somewhere else.” Darkstar whispered.

Orys stopped struggling.

Darkstar let go of his arm and grabbed his hair with his left hand while the right hand moved the knife to Orys’s scalp.

“Dayne!” Another voice called out.

Darkstar released Orys. “Gallant, welcome back. I thought you were gone to the garden with Daenerys.”

“What are you doing?” Garlan ‘the Gallant’ Tyrell asked, a note of anger evident in his voice, his sword drawn.

“Just scaring the Northerner,” Darkstar answered, still just amused.

“And you let him treat your fellow prince this way, again?” Garlan seemed to be addressing Aegon.

“Harmless, harmless.” Aegon responded. Aegon asked Orys, “What are you doing here on your own, anyway, half-brother? Shouldn’t you be praying to a tree, like Stark is always doing?”

“He’s LORD Stark.” Orys corrected, putting stress on the title. “And he’s the most honorable man in the seven kingdoms!”

“Most naïve man in the seven kingdoms,” Darkstar corrected in turn.

“With a whore for a sister.” Aegon added.

“Enough.” Garlan told his two friends. “The boy probably came here to train with Robb. Let him run off and find the direwolf boy in peace. It’ll be his last chance for a while, once Robb is on his way with everyone else to the Crossing.”

“The Northern fool won’t stand a chance in the melee.” Aegon said. “At least you won’t have to watch your ‘brother’ lose to Jon, eh, Northerner?” The look of pride was obvious when Aegon spoke of Orys’s younger brother. “Jon Targaryen will win the squire melee, best pray to your trees that Robb will come out of it alive.”

“I’ll be competing, too.” Orys said, without thinking. “And Robb and I will beat Jon in the first minutes of the melee!”

“Enjoy your fantasy while it lasts,” Aegon shook his head. “Darkstar, find the Hound. Gallant, go back to the gardens and find Daenerys. I’ll find Ser Oswell and the squires, and then meet you at the Dragon Gate once I’ve gotten my shield from Tanselle; we’ll leave King’s Landing early. Ser Oswell would probably enjoy a chance for more time in Harrenhal with his family before we go all the way to the Crossing.”

Darkstar rolled his eyes, and then walked away; Aegon headed off in another direction. Garlan looked down at Orys. “Are you alright, little prince?”

“Aegon’s an arse.” Orys alliterated.

Garlan sighed. “Perhaps you should consider being a bit less Northern?” The Tyrell knight advised. “I’d be happy to allow you to be my squire, alongside my kinsman Addam. It’d be a good chance for you to learn from an actual knight.”

“Lord Stark is the truest knight in Westeros, without needing some stupid words to make him honorable.” Orys replied defensively.

“That may be,” Garlan rolled his eyes in a very Darkstar-like way, to the annoyance of Orys. “But, the North is still hostile to the crown after that mess from years ago.”

“No one will even tell me about ‘that mess’, beyond contradicting rumors.” Orys complained.

“Even so, it is a tricky situation. I trust you remember who the rebels were, yes? List the lords paramount who joined Lord Stark against my father, your father, your brother’s uncle, and Lord Lannister.”

Orys thought for a second, and then began. “Lord Jon Arryn, a man with the highest honor of any knight, the falcon of the Vale. Lord Arryn was known for his strength as well as his kindness.”

“Lord Arryn died in his own bed about twelve years ago, to be replaced by Denys Arryn.” Garlan pointed out.

Orys went on to the next. “Lord Hoster Tully was brave enough to fight for what was right against the Mad King.”

“Lord Tully joined the rebellion because his daughters were married to Lords Stark and Arryn.” Garlan corrected. “And he died nine years ago, succeeded by his son Edmure Tully.”

Orys finished with the last of the major lords of the rebellion. “Lord Robert Baratheon was known as one of the strongest men in history. They say his hammer was too heavy for a hundred normal men to lift, all working together. Only Robert had the strength to use it in battle.”

“I can’t say I’ve tried to lift the hammer, though I doubt a hundred men together would have much trouble.” Garlan said. “But the traitorous Robert used his armies to fight your family and to kill thousands of people from my father’s land, even people of my blood. Thankfully, he died in Stonehelm, against your father. Legends may boast of Robert’s strength, but other legends say your father struck him down fearlessly with one blow. The control of the Stormlands was given to the Conningtons, by King Rhaegar; and with the death of Jon Connington, without a son to continue his line, the title of Lord Paramount of the Stormlands was given to the Dondarrion family.”

“Why would you ask me to list them all if you already know all about them?” Orys asked, more than a little annoyed.

Garlan answered with his own question. “Little prince, what do all three of these men have in common?”

Orys had his answer ready immediately. “They are all men of honor.”

“That may very well be true, Orys.” Garlan allowed. “But, they are also all dead. Every man who led the rebellion is dead, save for Stark,”

“He is Lord Stark.” Orys interrupted.

“Save for Lord Stark,” Garlan said, “none of the rebellious Lords Paramount are alive to be angry with or receive the anger of the rest of the realm. Even Lord Tywin Lannister, who joined the rebellion late into the war, is dead. The only remaining Lords Paramount are my own father Mace Tyrell, and Doran Martell. Do you understand what I’m trying to say, little prince?”

“That Lord Stark, even now that he is Master of Laws, is still upset with my father?”

“Exactly.” Garlan ruffled Orys’s hair. Orys hated when knights did that. “Now, I’ve kept Princess Daenerys waiting long enough. I must get her to the Dragon Gate. She’s been looking forward to seeing Harrenhal on the journey ever since she found out about the tourney.” With this, Garlan left the young prince.

It wasn’t long before Orys found Robb, and the two found Lord Stark had been training with a plain steel sword against one of the nearby knights; Lord Stark was no more than a few meters from where he’d told Orys he would be waiting. Orys decided not to mention the recent events.


	7. Chapter 4: Jon Targaryen I

### Chapter 4: Prince Jon Targaryen I, 1 August 298 AC

“Alright, I’ll go easy on you this time. But, remember, you’re fast. You’re not as big as me, yet, but you’re fast as a snake. Use that to your advantage.” Egg urged.

With his blunted longsword held with both hands, Jon charged at Egg. Jon shoved his longsword forward, but Egg batted it to Jon’s left. Jon had one thing going for him in this, he knew: Egg was predictable in training until Jon managed to impress him. Until then, Egg did his best to be predictable for his younger brother.

Thanks to this, Jon expected Egg to bring his shield down hard onto Jon’s right shoulder to knock him off balance, which would be followed closely by Egg swiping Jon’s legs out from under him with one of his own legs. As the shield was about to crash into Jon, the squire jumped far to the left, following the movement of his sword.

Thankfully, Egg was caught a bit off guard by his shield not connecting with the target. Jon swung high, his sword hitting his eldest brother’s helmet.

Egg grunted when the hit came, and then again when Jon beat the flat of the longsword into Egg’s ribs. “Yield,” Egg said, “I yield, great knight.” Egg sheathed his sword and took off his dented helmet, letting his silver hair free. “You did great, Jon, just keep like that and no one will stand a chance against you in the squire melee next month.”

“Praise the Warrior,” Jon removed his own helmet. Unlike his brother, he had gotten almost none of his father’s looks. Jon had the dark brown hair of his mother Ashara, along with eyes that almost looked grey instead of purple at times.

“Uh…yeah.” Egg agreed. He had more enthusiasm when he added, “You’re practically the Warrior incarnate, Jon.”

“Thanks, Egg.” Jon replied.

“Plumm!” Egg shouted.

Egg’s squire, Alyn Plumm, ran up to help Egg out of his armor.

Once the squire was finished, Egg walked over to the tree where he’d left his newest shield, which he was saving for the tourney. It was a kite shield, with the sigil quartered. The top left and bottom right both had the red dragon on black of House Targaryen; the top right and bottom left had the sun and spear of House Martell.

Egg held it up proudly. “Now, this…this is the shield I’ll have when I become champion.”

“Unless you’re knocked onto your arse.” Ser Sandor Clegane said, as he approached. “You might do well against that old fart Celtigar or that drunkard Lonmouth, but don’t expect that I’ll go easy on you just because you pay for my whores and drinks, Aegon.”

Egg laughed. “I wouldn’t want you to make it easy, Hound.”

Ser Sandor Clegane towered over nearly everyone he encountered, but he’d always been kind to the royal family, as far as Jon had seen. “I’ll cheer you on when you joust someone other than Egg, Ser.” Jon offered.

Sandor looked down at the smaller prince, the bone of his jaw showing in his burned face, a mass of scar covering the left side. “When I beat your brother, I’ll give you his armor and horse instead of selling them back to him.”

“And when I beat Sandor, I’ll give you his armor. Maybe you’ll grow into it. Though I wouldn’t curse you with that insane horse he rides.” Egg said.

Ignoring the crown prince, Sandor told Jon, “I need to speak with your brother about an issue. Go find Baelor Butthole.” Baelor Butthole was the common nickname that people used for Ser Bonifer Hasty, one of the godliest men in the realm.

“An issue? Is something wrong?” Jon asked.

“Relax, it’s just a problem between Darkstar and Lord Whent’s daughter-in-law. Nothing to concern yourself with.” Sandor explained.

Egg got a worried look on his face. “Jon, Ser Bonifer is probably in the sept. Head over there while I deal with this. Now.”

As he was told, Jon headed for the sept, where Ser Bonifer was praying. As the prince entered, Ser Bonifer stood up. “You’re back early.” He said simply.

“Ser Sandor said that there was a problem.” Jon explained.

“Very well. I was in the middle of praying for your grandmother.” Ser Bonifer informed, a look of pain on his face; he always looked hurt when he talked about Jon’s grandmother Rhaelle.

Jon was too young to remember, but he was told that she’d gotten sick and passed away. She’d been married to Ser Bonifer for half a decade at that point, and Egg told him that Ser Bonifer had taken it badly. He’d gone back to celibacy after her death, explaining that the late Queen Rhaelle was the only person he could ever love, and that only the Maiden herself could compare to Rhaelle. A few months later, Ser Lewyn of the Kingsguard had passed away from some sickness that Egg said he’d gotten from a woman; Jon’s father offered Ser Bonifer a position on the Kingsguard, and Ser Bonifer accepted. Once Jon was old enough to squire, he started serving Ser Bonifer.

Jon knelt next to Ser Bonifer and started reciting prayers.


	8. Chapter 5: Lysandre Rogare I

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Initially, I wasn't sure of how to portray the spoken Valyrian language as different than the spoken Westerosi common language. But, now that I'm posting this chapter, I'm going to go with italics. If anyone more familiar with the site has a better idea of how to portray this, I'd be thankful; I'd normally be against editing a chapter once I've posted it, especially as I'm several chapters ahead of what's posted, but finding a better way to portray languages would be worth making some edits.
> 
> And, once again, thanks to everyone whose taken the time to give this a look so far.

### Chapter 5: Lysandre Rogare I, 3 August 298 AC

“ _We’re two days from the Crossing._ ” The red priestess announced, in High Valyrian, as annoying as the previous sunset, when she’d told him they had three days to go.

“ _Tomorrow we’ll have one day left._ ” Lysandre replied in the same language. “ _And the next day we’ll be there. See? I can make prophecies as well._ ”

“ _That wasn’t a prophecy, it was a reminder. You only have a short time to prepare for our arrival. The Freys were kind enough to allow us to reside in the Crossing; we must represent our lands well._ ” She explained. For the hundredth time.

“ _The Freys are the backwater shits of a backwater shit continent. I’ll spit on their faces and tell them it’s a compliment in Lys; they’ll consider it an honor and brag about it for weeks, I guarantee you._ ” Lysandre laughed.

The priestess sighed in exasperation, and then dismounted her horse. “ _The night is dark and full of terrors, Rogare. It is time you make camp. And, I beg you, don’t continue talking in this manner. Some of these Westerosi may speak our language._ ”

Lysandre dismounted his horse as well, and then took a hatchet out of his horses’s saddle to go about gathering wood for a fire. As he started chopping into a small tree, he thought over the situation.

Lysandre was the son of Magister Syrio Rogare of Lys, which led to his ‘creative’ name. Unfortunately, his mother was not the Magister’s wife; he was instead the son of a concubine. As the only son of Magister Syrio, he hoped that he would be named the legitimate heir, but at the time, it seemed like Syrio would allow his nephew Gyleno to inherit his estate. Until the previous year, when Lysandre got the offer. His father claimed that if Lysandre could help some woman from Asshai, he’d be legitimized and given the Rogare family’s Valyrian Sword to ensure his success.

Just the thought of the sword was a matter of pride. Lysandre set his hand on the hilt as the tree fell. ‘Truth’ was the name of the blade, and Lysandre would bring glory to the Rogare family with it. He would be the hero of Lys. He even looked like a dragon prince, he’d be legendary. With the long, flowing, silver hair and lilac eyes of Valyria, he might as well be the symbol of Lys already.

At first, serving this priestess seemed like a good idea. If Lysandre was the idea Valyrian male, she was the idea match: silver hair in a long braid over her shoulder and bright violet eyes. The priestess kept a gown made of silk in her horse’s saddle, the color of smoke with scarlet lining. But, on their journey, she’d mostly worn black trousers and a scarlet shirt. Not very priestess-like, in Lysandre’s opinion. The only thing more shameful than when she acted like a peasant was when she acted like a demon. She never slept. It was creepy.

Creepy as she was, though, it was worth it. He would be the head of the Rogare family, one of the most prominent houses in Lyseni history. It was a shame that he’d been left in the dark about most of the quest, though. All he’d been told was that he had to get the priestess to some party in Westeros, and then have her meet whichever of the Targaryen princes was Azor Ahai.

Lysandre gathered a few logs from the tree once he’d divided it into small enough pieces, and then set up a fire-pit next to a stream. The priestess said a few words over the wood, and then it burst into flames. “ _Useful,_ ” Lysandre muttered.

“ _Quite._ ” The priestess replied bluntly.

Lysandre sat down a few feet from the fire and started polishing the Valyrian Steel blade. The priestess didn’t offer any conversation, so he didn’t feel the need to do so, either.

He wondered for a moment which of the Targaryen princes was Azor Ahai. His first guess would have been the Fireknight, but it turned out that she was a woman, so he doubted she would be the one.

His mind passed on to thoughts of another candidate, the crown prince. Prince Aegon was rumored to be a skilled duelist. Lysandre had even seen the prince’s tutor, the Red Viper of Dorne, slay seven challengers in the house of Tregar Ormollen, back when Tregar was the Magister of Lys. Some said Aegon was as skilled with the sword as the Viper was with his spear, but Lysandre doubted anyone could be that talented.

The third of the Westerosi king’s children was Orys Targaryen. The boy had the worst reputation of all; rumors said that he worshipped bleeding trees with the barbarian-warlord Stark. Beyond doubt, there was no way this one would be Azor Ahai.

The fourth, Jon Targaryen, didn’t even have the looks of old Valyria, from what Lysandre had heard. No doubt he didn’t count.

The last son, Valarr, was six. The search for Azor Ahai seemed to be too urgent for it to be a child.

Other than the Fireknight, King Rhaegar had two younger daughters: Visenya and Alysanne, both the daughters of Ashara Dayne.

Back on the subject of the crown prince, maybe the rumors were true. Taking the opportunity to make an ally of this possible ‘savior’ would be a great advantage for Lysandre. He doubted he’d be elected magister immediately after his own father’s death, but, by the time of the next election, the prince would be king. A king and a magister, both descended from Valyria…it would be a boon to Lysandre’s reputation. The fleet of Dragonstone, under the sixth King Aegon, and the fleet of Lys, under Magister Lysandre Rogare…Tyrosh and Myr wouldn’t stand a chance. Lys could become the capital of the Empire of New Valyria; the Rogare dynasty would rule in Essos while the Targaryen dynasty ruled in the savage Westeros.

He just had to make a good impression on the prince. And how hard could that be? The prince was only sixteen, a full eight years younger than Lysandre. At that age, even Lysandre himself was weak for the more carnal pleasures. Most likely, the boy would be after the witch and would at least entertain the concept of following R’hllor, at least enough not to be too zealous against the god of light’s supporters. Maybe that was why Lysandre’s father was so adamant about Lysandre getting the witch to the Crossing.


	9. Overview 1: The Iron Throne

### Overview 1: The Iron Throne, 3 August 298 AC

Though there are ‘Seven Kingdoms’ under the Iron Throne, it’s more realistic to say that there are nine regions: The Crownlands, Dorne, the Reach, the Stormlands, the Westerlands, the Riverlands, the Vale, the Iron Isles, and the North. Of each of these, it’s important to record a bit of the current situation.

Naturally, we begin with the Crownlands, home to King’s Landing and the king himself. King Rhaegar Targaryen, first of his name, king of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men, currently sits the Iron Throne, having ascended to the position after his father drank wildfire. King Rhaegar’s heir is the sixteen-year-old Prince Aegon of Dragonstone. Prince Aegon’s only full sister is the Fireknight, Rhaenys Targaryen. His half-siblings, all from Queen Ashara Dayne, are: Orys Targaryen, Jon Targaryen, Visenya Targaryen, Alysanne Targaryen, and Valarr Targaryen.

The (formerly) most prominent vassal region of King Rhaegar is the Westerlands. House Lannister currently controls this region, though it is now a shell of its former glory. Under Lord Paramount Tywin Lannister, the region enjoyed great prosperity…but, ever since the death of Lord Tywin four years ago, his drunkard son Tyrion the Monstrous has taken control of the lands. Unfortunately for the Westerlands, the dwarf Tyrion has been drinking and whoring the gold of House Lannister away ever since his father’s death. Lord Tyrion is currently married to Lady Lysa Tully; thanks to this marriage, the Westerlands has a close alliance with the Riverlands.

The wealthiest of the regions is now the Reach, held by Lord Willas Tyrell. For decades, the Reach has produced most of the food in Westeros and has used this advantage to become even wealthier than the Targaryen family. Lord Willas’s brother, Ser Garlan the Gallant, serves as one of Prince Aegon’s closest companions, serving to keep the Reach in the crown’s good graces. Ser Garlan serves as Lord Willas’s heir, currently, and is betrothed to Princess Daenerys Targaryen.

The closest region to the crown is the region of Dorne, currently controlled by Prince Doran Martell. As the Dornish allow their daughters to inherit, strangely, Prince Doran’s heir is his daughter, Arianne Martell, who is married to Prince Viserys Targaryen, younger brother of King Rhaegar. With Prince Viserys, the young Arianne has a son named Olyvar Martell, an infant who will likely control the region of Dorne someday.

Though the Stormlands had been under the Baratheon lords for nearly three hundred years, the region was given to Lord Jon Connington shortly after Robert’s Rebellion. Unfortunately, Lord Connington died within a few years of this, and King Rhaegar gave the region to the Dondarrion family. The current Lord Paramount of the Stormlands is Lord Beric ‘the Lightning Lord’ Dondarrion, a knight famed for his skill in jousts.

The Vale is held by Lord Denys Arryn, who inherited the lands following the death of Jon Arryn. Lord Paramount Denys Arryn’s heir is his legitimized bastard son, Donnel. The Vale has proclaimed that its knights are the most skilled in the realm, and, while normally this would be doubted, the region does produce men famed for their skill with the sword.

The Riverlands is held by Lord Paramount Edmure Tully, who is married to Lady Amerei Frey. Lord Paramount Edmure, thanks to his sisters’ marriages, has a close alliance with the North and Westerlands.

The North is held by the Master-of-Laws, Lord Paramount Eddard Stark. Lord Stark’s wife, Lady Catelyn Tully, provides her husband with an alliance with the Riverlands. Their son, Robb Stark, serves as a squire in King’s Landing. The North is known to not follow the Faith of the Seven, instead worshipping trees as their gods.

Last, and thankfully least, we have the Iron Islands. Even worse than the barbaric North, the Iron Islands, who style themselves as ‘Ironborn’ worship a god of the sea, and choose to raid coastal areas of Westeros and Essos. The Iron Islands are controlled by Balon Greyjoy, whose heir is his son, the young Theon Greyjoy.

-From the writings of Grand Maester Pycelle


	10. Chapter 6: Aegon Targaryen II

### Chapter 6: Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone II, 1 September 298 AC

With his pavilion set up, Aegon had spent the previous night getting some much needed rest. It would be two days before the tourney began, but today would be the day Lord Stevron Frey announced who would face whom during the first day of the jousts. Aegon knew he should be excited about it…but, ever since the day he’d left King’s Landing, he’d been unable to get Rhaenys’s words out of his head.

At the Dragon Gate, she’d warned him of a dream she’d had. She’d dreamed of flames of various colors and sizes, all consuming a mummer’s dragon; and then the flames, one by one, had all been extinguished, leaving only ash.

Flames being extinguished didn’t bode well for a house whose words were ‘Fire and Blood’, he knew. But, he’d shared this with no one. As far as he knew, only Rhaenys and himself were aware of it.

Shaking his head to clear his mind, Aegon walked out of his tent. Ser Oswell Whent was standing next to the entrance, still on guard. The man seemed fine with not getting as much time as expected in Harrenhal. They’d ended up having to leave early, as Darkstar was found in bed with Lord Whent’s daughter-in-law.

“Prince Aegon,” Ser Oswell greeted him. “Ser Garlan has left to see his brother, and Princess Daenerys joined him.”

“They told me they intended to leave at dawn,” Aegon shrugged. “Gerold already left to join the Dornish pavilions, yes?”

“Yes, my prince, he’s gone, too. Of your companions, only Ser Sandor will be fighting for the Crownlands with you.”

“So it seems. Speaking of the Hound, where has he run off to?” Aegon asked.

“Lord Frey’s released lists of who will face whom, and Ser Sandor went ahead to get one for the two of you.” Ser Oswell explained. “Speak of the devil, here he is.”

Unmistakable thanks to his size, the Hound approached Aegon with a piece of paper. “Looks like neither of us have to be patient, Egg. We’re both set to joust on the first day. Sixteen jousts each day, until the champion of the joust is chosen. Once that’s done, the melee for knights and the melee for squires, along with the archery competition will share the next day. It ends with some surprise event.” Sandor informed.

“Sounds simple enough, who are our first opponents?” Aegon inquired.

“Sarsfield for you, and Corbray for me.”

“Sarsfield is fat old fool. But…do you mean Lyn Corbray?”

The Hound seemed nonplussed. “Yeah, why?”

“The man has a reputation. He was given a Valyrian Steel sword for that reputation.” Aegon pointed out.

“You don’t bring a sword to a joust, Egg.” The Hound raised an eyebrow. “So, your worries are pointless.”

“Fine, just too bad you might not last long enough in the tourney to face me.” Aegon replied. What about Garlan and Gerold? And that bastard Viserys?”

The Hound spat on the ground. “I’m paid to guard you, not read to you.”

Aegon took the list from Sandor and looked through it. Darkstar would face Jonthor Serret on the first day; it wouldn’t be the easiest match, but Darkstar stood a good chance of winning. Garlan the Gallant would be up against Lymond Bracken on the second day; a lucky break for Garlan. Viserys would be against the old drunk Andros Brax…that was a shame. Aegon had hoped that Viserys would embarrass himself by losing in the first round. Maybe Brax would win anyway, hopefully.

“Nephew, glad to see you again.”

Aegon looked up from the list. It was Viserys. Seven hells, this would be annoying. “Viserys, where is that wife of yours? Did she wise up and arrange a divorce?”

“No,” Viserys answered, a cup of wine in hand. “Dear Arianne is ruling as her father’s castellan in Sunspear. She didn’t want to take that brat of mine out of Dorne until he seems healthier. It works for me, as I didn’t plan to make her my Queen of Love and Beauty, anyway. I’ll probably crown some Northern girl like your father did. Arianne’s just as bad as Elia was, if you ask me.”

Aegon was already gripping his sword, ready to unsheathe it. He wondered if killing an uncle would be universally considered kinslaying. Then he wondered if he cared.

“Don’t worry, little prince, I won’t be crowning some girl from the North, no need to get so red-faced.” Viserys assured, grinning. “I plan to crown a dragon as my queen. The lovely Rhaenys may look Dornish, but she still has the blood of the dragon. And once I’m on the Iron Throne, I’ll have her to give me heirs.”

Aegon unsheathed his sword. “You know, Viserys, I hate all of my Targaryen uncles. Mayhaps I should make you an aunt instead.” Aegon lowed the tip of his blade, pointing it directly at Viserys’s groin.

Viserys laughed. “Attempted kinslaying? So shameful for a prince. Do try not to wake the dragon, fool.” Viserys threw his emptied cup at Aegon’s feet and unsheathed his own sword.

The Hound and Ser Whent had their blades ready within moments. “Be gone, worm.” The Hound ordered. “We’re three against one, and ten of you wouldn’t stand a chance against us.”

“The bat can’t harm a prince, he’s in the kingsguard.” Viserys pointed out. “So, it’s more like two. And no hound could slay a dragon. Best if you two run off and leave the dragons to their dance.”

Within moments, Viserys was on the ground, with Darkstar on top of him. Aegon sheathed his sword as he wondered where his friend had come from.

“Forgive us, Egg, Gerold wanted to stay hidden to hear what the fool had to say.” Garlan explained, as he stepped out from behind another knight’s tent.

Gerold had the happiest grin as he held a knife to Viserys’s throat. “Say another word and you die, traitor. Threatening the crown prince is undoubtedly treason, and a good excuse for me to save Lady Arianne from you. Garlan, what’s the punishment for treason?”

“Death,” Garlan explained.

“No.” Whent interrupted. “I’ll not have Egg’s reputation be stained by the death of his uncle. For the sake of the prince, let the worm live.”

Gerold’s grin was gone now. “My reputation is tarnished already.”

“As is mine.” The Hound agreed. “Whent, if you, Garlan, and Egg were to leave….”

“Then it would be Egg’s guards slaying his uncle.” Whent shook his head. “Let the fool go, Dayne.”

Gerold sliced Viserys’s cheek with the knife and got off of him. “Run, fool. I look forward to watching you get knocked off of your horse in the joust.”

Viserys was scrambling away immediately.


	11. Chapter 7: Nymeria Sand I

### Chapter 7: Nymeria Sand I, 3 September 298 AC

Nymeria sat in the stands next to where the joust would take place. Normally, she’d be guarding the Fireknight Rhaenys, but Rhaenys asked her to keep an eye on young Prince Jon for the day while she went looking into something. The boy was sitting on her right, with the kingsguard Bonifer Hasty on his right.

To Nym’s left was the princess Daenerys, and Garlan Tyrell sat to the princess’s left. The two had been betrothed to each other barely more than a month ago, though they were rarely out of each other’s sight prior to that, anyway.

The seven people who’d paid the Freys so much gold sat in the seven seats on honor. In the highest seat was King Rhaegar, her late aunt’s husband. On his immediate left was Lord Paramount Beric Dondarrion, of the Stormlands, the most handsome man in his region, in Nym’s opinion. To Lord Dondarrion’s left was the man who seemed to be Beric’s opposite: Lord Paramount Tyrion ‘the Imp’ Lannister, the drunken dwarf was more suited for a circus than a place of honor. And, on the Imp’s left was Lord Randyll Tarly, the Huntsman of the Reach.

On King Rhaegar’s right was the host, Lord Stevron Frey. To Frey’s right was Lord Wendel Manderly of the North. And, to Manderly’s right was the last of the honored guests, Lord Roland Waynwood.

“Hopefully Egg does well.” Daenerys said.

“He’ll do fine, Dany.” Nym assured. “My father did teach him everything he knows, after all.”

“You’re right, I suppose. I’m glad he and Garlan won’t have to go against each other until the last joust, though.” Daenerys replied.

“No doubt they’ll both be undefeated until the end.” Nym agreed.

“So long as Dany is cheering me on, I’m sure I’ll win.” Garlan boasted.

“And if you lose?” Nymeria asked.

“If I lose, then Egg wins our bet.” Garlan answered.

“Bet?”

“Yes, we had our own wager. But, we agreed that we’d keep the terms of it private until one of us won.” He explained. “But enough of this, the joust is about to begin.”

“For the first joust of the Tourney of the Crossing,” a herald announced loudly, “the first competitor is a mystery knight, who wields a shield bearing a red viper on a black field, representing Dorne as its lead champion.”

“So your father ended up coming?” Daenerys asked Nym.

“He didn’t tell me beforehand.” Nymeria shrugged. “I have no idea why he’d pick such an obvious sigil, though. Who else would bear the red viper as their sigil, other than ‘the Red Viper of Dorne’? I suppose he was always one for the dramatic, though.” The girl shook her head. “But, still, so bloody obvious.”

“Well, that just means we get to cheer on one more person.” The princess said brightly. It annoyed Nym sometimes, that the girl was so positive. She supposed that made her a good partner for a knight called ‘the Gallant’, though.

“And against this mystery knight is Ser Baelor ‘Brightsmile’ Hightower, the heir to the Hightower lands, representing the Reach. Ser Baelor will be using the normal white tower on grey field of his house.”

“More like Baelor Breakwind, from what father says.” Nym chuckled. “Too bad he has to be embarrassed by the Red Viper again.”

Nymeria, Daenerys, and the young prince cheered as loudly as they could, as the Red Viper and Brightsmile lowered their lances. The horses charged, and the Red Viper’s lance broke against Brightsmile’s shield, knocking the Hightower heir off of his horse and into the dirt.

As Hightower’s squire ran to help him up, the mystery knight rode off of the jousting lane in victory.

“The winner is the mystery knight.” The herald announced.

“As if there was any doubt.” Prince Jon said to Nymeria.

“For the next joust,” the herald announced, “the competitor will be Ser Lyonel Frey, son of Genna Lannister and Emmon Frey, the blood of Lannister and Frey. May he bring great honor to the Freys as he represents the Riverlands as its lead champion. He will use, as his sigil, the double towers of House Frey, but red on a gold field, a reverse of Lannister colors.”

“Completely unbiased.” Garlan whispered to Daenerys, completely sarcastic.

“Against Ser Lyonel Frey is Ser Jaime Lannister, of the Kingsguard, representing the Westerlands as its lead champion. Ser Jaime will use, as his sigil, a white lion instead of gold, representing his status as a member of the kingsguard. No matter which of these men win, one of their regions will need to choose a new lead champion out of their competitors.” The herald explained.

“Frey doesn’t stand a chance.” Jon said.

“Ser Jaime’s a master of the sword, not the lance.” Nymeria explained. I’d give him sixty-forty odds of winning, at best.”

“Just you watch, he’ll knock Ser Lyonel off of his horse on the first tilt.” Jon claimed.

Jon was wrong. The first charge left Lyonel nearly falling off of his horse, but managing to stay on. But, in the third tilt, Ser Lyonel was knocked off of his horse.  
“With Ser Lyonel Frey’s loss, the new lead champion of the Riverlands is Ser Walder Frey.” The Herald announced.

“There are too many Walders for us to know which one that is.” Nymeria complained.

“For the third joust of the day,” the herald continued, “we have Lord Andros Brax of Hornvale, representing the Westerlands; using the purple unicorn on a silver field as his sigil. He will be riding against Prince Viserys Targaryen, representing Dorne, with a red dragon around an orange sun, on a black field, as his sigil.”

Nymeria couldn’t help noticing that Daenerys was cheering on Lord Brax in this joust. Nymeria couldn’t blame her for this, whatsoever. Not wanting to cheer against Dorne, Nym remained silent.

Unfortunately, Viserys knocked Andros off of his horse on the first tilt. Viserys turned his horse around to ride over and spit on Brax before he left the lane.

“He won’t last long in this tournament.” Garlan the Gallant assured Daenerys.

In the next tilt, Imry Florent of the Reach lost to the bastard Walder Frey of the Riverlands, ensuring that the Riverlanders’ replacement champion wasn’t disqualified on the first day.

The next tilt had Ser Gerold the Darkstar of Dorne break six lances against Jonthor Serret of the Westerlands before finally unhorsing them.

As Gerold was showboating, Nym thought she saw something out of the corner of her eye. “Garlan, Bonifer, keep Dany and Jon safe. I’ll be back.”

Leaving the stands, Nym ran to the tent that had been set up for Rhaenys. Pulling the flap back, she looked in. Prince Viserys was going through Lady Rhaenys’s belongings.

Faster than she could think, Nym had one of her daggers in hand and she sent it sailing through the air with a whistle, catching Viserys in the arm.


	12. Chapter 8: Viserys Targaryen I

### Chapter 8: Prince Viserys Targaryen of Dorne I, 3 September 298 AC

“Gah! Rhaenys, you Dornish whore!” Viserys exclaimed, as he felt a small knife go into his left arm. Turning around, he realized that it was actually one of the Red Viper’s bastards, one of the Sand Snakes. Not that he cared to think about which one of the infamous bastards it might be. “Striking a prince is treason, snake.” Viserys pulled the knife out of his left forearm; thankfully it was only in the side and was about the size of a finger.

“I’ll be pardoned.” The whore replied. “In fact, putting you down would probably get me your corpse’s weight in gold.”

By the gods, why couldn’t this bitch just watch the jousts with everyone else? “Just assume that you’re as stupid as you are lowborn and leave.” Viserys ordered. “That’s an order as the Prince of Dorne’s son-in-law, and the brother of the king of the Iron Throne.”

“Tell me what you’re doing in Rhaenys’s tent uninvited and I might not put a knife in your throat.” Maybe the snake was deaf. Viserys realized that snakes didn’t have ears.

“Fine,” Viserys rolled his eyes. “I heard that Rhaenys had something important.”

“That just means you get to die for it.” The Dornish bastard narrowed her eyes at him, two knives already in her hands. “And the thing you’ll die for is…?”

“This.” Viserys held up a red block of twisted obsidian.

“A rock?” The ignorant fool seemed confused.

“You don’t even have any idea what this is….” Viserys laughed. Though, he wasn’t entirely sure why it was so important either. Wealthy representatives of Slaver’s Bay had offered to put him on the Iron Throne, claiming he was the Prince that was Promised. It only made sense that Viserys was the true dragon, so it made sense that they supported him. They told him that, should be retrieve some piece of obsidian that his niece Rhaenys was rumored to have, they could prove his status as savior to Qarth, gaining another powerful ally. The only catch was that Viserys would have to send them a few Targaryens as slaves. He figured that he’d take Daenerys and one of Rhaegar’s daughters as his two brides, the lesser two heads of the dragon.

“If you want it, that just means I need to keep you from getting it.” The girl replied.

“Fine. I’ll pay you twice your monthly wage from Rhaenys if you go away and pretend you never saw me.” Viserys offered, deciding to be kind. “I may even let you become one of my concubines when I sit the Iron Throne.”

Another whistle. Viserys screamed as a larger blade sank into his right leg, making him drop the rock in pain. The bitch would be tortured in the darkest dungeon once he rose to power, he decided. She walked over to him, seeming pleased with herself. She picked up the obsidian…and then immediately screamed.

Prince Viserys realized what he had to do. He immediately limped out of the tent and away as fast as he could, hoping that the noise of the tourney was loud of enough that no one could hear the Dornish snake.

If he didn’t get retrieve the obsidian soon enough, it would be too late. The slavers had warned him of what would happen. At best, he had a few years to prepare for the Others to invade from the North. The only way to keep the realm from being destroyed was to have Azor Ahai on the Iron Throne; Viserys himself. If the whore knew how much of danger she was putting the realm in by getting in Viserys’s way, she’d have accepted his offer. Instead, she would soon learn what happens when you wake the dragon.

The screaming stopped about the time Viserys was a short distance away; not as far as he’d have liked, but she’d have a hard time finding him.

Viserys figured that once he sat the Iron Throne, he’d have the Northerners assemble at the Wall to kill as many Others as they could before they were overrun. If they followed his orders and planted wildfire along the Wall for when they started to be defeated, that would prevent the Others from having more soldiers.

Once the North was lost, he’d have the next defense be held at the Neck; he’d order Riverlander soldiers to gather there to weaken the Others further. He didn’t expect the Wall or the Neck to stop the Others, as he, Azor Ahai, wouldn’t be there.

No, instead he’d be with the forces of all the rest of the kingdoms. He’d be with the largest army imaginable, holding the last place of defense: here. The Crossing. And, with him on their side, his army would defeat the Others and cause a Summer that would last forever. Sure, he’d lose the North, but that region was full of barbarians who should be honored to die in his service, anyway.

“Uncle Viserys?”

Viserys looked down. It was his other nephew, Orys. The one who spent all of his time with the Starks. Even the boy’s hair was diluted with the dark color of his Dayne mother.

“What happened? You’re bleeding?” Orys asked.

“I was attacked by a group of bandits.” Viserys answered. “Now go fetch me a maester, quickly.”

Nodding, the boy ran off in search of a maester.

The boy was good, Viserys thought. He’d have to get him away from the Starks once he was king, but Orys would serve as a good vassal for Viserys. Viserys figured that he would have Aegon killed, give Rhaenys, Valarr, and Jon to the slavers, and keep Visenya and Daenerys as his brides. Viserys would just give Orys some land and marry him off to Alysanne, to make sure there would be more dragon blood available, in case a sacrifice was needed in the future. King’s blood did have magical properties, after all.


	13. Chapter 9: Moredo I

### Chapter 9: Moredo I, 3 September 298 AC

Serve. Obey. Protect. The three words that Moredo’s life revolved around. Sold to the Bearded Priests when he was a child, he was a master of the long-axe. Which was why he now served, obeyed, and protected his current charge in Westeros.

Now if only Moredo spoke the language of this continent. That would probably have helped. Moredo served a man called ‘Matarys’, who, thankfully, did speak High Valyrian. Matarys was about six feet in height, about a foot shorter than Moredo himself, with brown hair and a short beard.

Moredo followed Matarys through a field full of tents, all the way past several crowds. There was some game going on, by the looks of it. The Westerosi were making noise in their queer language. It all sounded like the grunts and squeals of pigs to Moredo, but he attributed this to his discomfort with languages he didn’t understand.

He looked in that direction and saw two men on horses charging at each other. A man with purple lightning on his black shield was going against a man with a red sun on an orange shield. The man with the purple lightning won. It seemed boring to Moredo.

Matarys stopped in front of a man with two blue towers on his tunic and told the man something that Moredo didn’t understand. The double-tower man left, and then returned soon after with a very old man who looked to be about seventy. “ _Moredo,_ ” Matarys said, in High Valyrian, “ _this is Lord Frey._ ” After the introduction, Matarys started speaking to Frey in the Westerosi language.

Frey said something back. He seemed worried for some reason.

Matarys put his hand on the old man’s shoulder and laughed. He said more things that Moredo couldn’t understand. Matarys took a piece of paper out of his pocket and showed it to Frey. It had a horse with bat wings, breathing flame, drawn onto it.

Frey started stammering something nervously.

Matarys switched to High Valyrian. “ _Moredo, if you hear the sounds ‘biht-urr-stil’ from Lord Frey or anyone he’s in conversation with, remove Frey’s head. Remember, it’s ‘biht-urr-stil’, not ‘beht-urr-stil’. If you can successfully escape after doing this, return to Norvos. Until either you hear those sounds or until I personally order you to do otherwise, stay by Lord Frey. He believes that you would never allow him to come to harm; do not let him believe otherwise until the time comes. Also, pretend you don’t speak High Valyrian until I tell you to do otherwise. Understand?_ ”

Moredo nodded.

Matarys said something in the Westerosi language to Frey.

Biht-urr-stil. Moredo repeated the sounds in his head.

“ _Frey only speaks that savage language of this land._ ” Matarys said in High Valyrian. “ _If he points one finger at someone, kill them. If he points two, threaten them by doing something that looks menacing. If he points three, apprehend them. If he points four, kill everyone in the room; Frey thinks this would exclude himself, but he’s wrong about that._ ” Matarys turned around and walked away, leaving Moredo with Frey.

Well, apparently now he would have to follow Frey around. Hopefully he could feed his long-axe with someone’s blood soon. Biht-urr-stil.

Frey seemed nervous as he took a seat with six other men. Moredo stood behind Frey as Frey said something to the other men. One of the men, the one with the Valyrian looks, said something to Moredo with a smile. Another, a very small man with mismatched eyes, said something as well, directed at the Valyrian-looking one, and then laughed.

Moredo ignored their babbling and looked at the two new men charging at each other. One was a man who towered over the rest, with three dogs on a yellow shield and a face covered in burns; the other was a normal-sized man who had a shield with three black birds carrying three hearts. The smaller man won.

Biht-urr-stil.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has read this far. If anyone would be willing to spare the time, I would much appreciate any advice/criticism that could help a novice writer such as myself.


	14. Chapter 10: Jon Targaryen II

### Chapter 10: Prince Jon Targaryen II, 3 September 298 AC

With Ser Bonifer Hasty behind him, Jon left the stands and went down to see Ser Sandor, who had just lost in the twelfth match of the day.

As he walked down, a mystery knight with a sigil of a red river on a blue field was going up against Lord Galladon Tarth.

“Fowler, get the damn wine!” Ser Sandor yelled at his eight-year-old squire.

“Yes, Ser.” The younger boy, Yoren Fowler ran off to the pavilions.

“Dornish wine, this time! The strongest you can find! See if any of those buggered lords will sell any!” Ser Sandor ordered.

“Ser? Are you hurt? Should I get a maester?” Jon asked.

Sandor looked down at the boy. “Bah, go help Yoren find some wine. Seeing a prince might make them a bit more charitable.”

Jon ran after Yoren, to the pavilions of the Dornish nobles. Ser Bonifer followed close enough to keep an eye on the prince, but didn’t seem to be in much hurry; he was quite old, so it made sense to Jon. “Yoren, let’s try Rhaenys’s pavilion first! I think she went back to her tent after Egg’s joust.”

Strangely, his sister hadn’t been sitting with him throughout the jousts so far that day; she must have been watching with older lords and ladies. For Ser Sandor’s sake, he hoped that she was in her tent and that she had good wine.

As they got close to the tent, Jon heard a groan.

“What was that?” Yoren asked. “And what’s that brown stuff on the ground?”

Jon ran straight to the tent’s entrance and pulled the flap back. “Nym!” he exclaimed, seeing Lady Nymeria, who seemed to be unconscious. “Yoren, find Aegon!”

Yoren ran off to find Egg.

“Prince Jon, why is Yoren running back to the joust?” Bonifer asked, from outside of the tent.

“Nymeria! She’s hurt!” Jon shouted.

Ser Bonifer walked into the tent. “The woman is unconscious, but she doesn’t seem to have any wounds.” The large kingsguard knight picked up Nymeria. “I’ll take her to the maester. There should be a few of them near the joust.”

Ser Bonifer started walking back to the crowd, with Jon following.

With an obvious limp, Viserys walked past Jon, apparently leaving the crowd. “Where are you running off to, nephew?” Viserys asked.

“Ser Bonifer is taking Lady Nym to a maester! I found her hurt in Rhaenys’s tent.” Jon answered.

“Oh?” Viserys seemed uninterested. “Did she pick a fight with someone faster than her this time?”

“I don’t know,” Jon answered, “but I have to catch up to Ser Bonifer.”

“Fine, fine, off you go, boy.” Viserys shrugged. “As it happens, I just came back from the maesters. A group of bandits caught me unaware while everyone was watching the joust.” Despite Aegon’s stories about Viserys in the past, Jon hoped that his uncle was fine.

“I’ll tell Ser Sandor to warn everyone else about the bandits.” Jon promised.

“See that you do. I’ll check around the Dornish pavilion and see if I can find anyone who may have seen someone suspicious around your sister’s tent.” Viserys said, nonchalantly walking away.

As Jon ran after Ser Bonifer, to the maesters, he heard a herald announce that Lord Eon Hunter had been soundly defeated by Ser Samwell Tarly, but that Lord Hunter’s wounds from losing the joust weren’t serious.

Just as Ser Bonifer reached the maesters, an incredibly large man was delivered to them, as well.

“Set the girl down somewhere,” one of the maesters told Ser Bonifer, as he rushed to help two other maesters with the larger man, who was vomiting repeatedly onto the ground.

“Is that…Umber? Greatjon Umber?” Ser Bonifer asked.

“We think someone poisoned him, but we’re not sure what they used; he may die!” A maester explained.

“It must have been the Blackwoods! He was set to joust against a Blackwood!” Some Bracken man who had helped the Greatjon to the maesters accused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Once again, thanks everyone who has made it this far into the story. If any of you have advice/criticisms for a novice, I'd really appreciate it.


	15. Overview 2: Robert's Rebellion

### Overview 2: Robert’s Rebellion, 3 September 298 AC

During the end of King Aerys II Targaryen’s reign, and during the beginning of the reign of King Rhaegar Targaryen, a rebellion enveloped the realm.

This rebellion is, according to singers, the result of Lord Robert Baratheon trying to force Lyanna Stark into an unwanted marriage; she was allegedly rescued from this by King Rhaegar Targaryen, to be put into a tower for her protection. But, this is not, in fact, the cause of the rebellion, nor did Lord Baratheon start the rebellion.

No, in fact, after the rescue of Lady Lyanna, her brother demanded that she be given back to the Starks. King Aerys had the brother and father of Lyanna executed for treason, leaving the younger brother, Eddard Stark, as lord of the North. At the time, Eddard Stark and Robert Baratheon were living in the Eyrie with Jon Arryn, so King Aerys demanded that they be given over to him to face execution as well. Instead of giving up the teenage boys to be killed, Jon Arryn started the rebellion, with Stark (the North) and Baratheon (the Stormlands) as his allies.

Due to the elder Stark brother’s death, his betrothed, Catelyn Tully, was instead given to Eddard Stark to marry. Lord Tully’s other daughter, Lysa Tully, was married to Jon Arryn to secure alliance (the lady Lysa became married to Tyrion Lannister soon after Jon Arryn’s death).

This secured the Baratheon-Stark-Tully-Arryn alliance, with the four regions (Stormlands, North, Riverlands, and Vale) at war against the king.

The Greyjoys of the Iron Islands remained neutral.

Meanwhile, the loyalist faction, led by the then-prince Rhaegar Targaryen, were the Martells and Tyrells. You’ll note that the Lannisters were not included in this list, as, while Rhaegar was prince, the Lannisters were neutral.

Upon Rhaegar’s ascension as king, the Lannisters joined the loyalists, apparently due to a letter sent by King Aerys shortly before his tragic death. Thanks to this, the loyalists were a Targaryen-Tyrell-Martell-Lannister alliance (the Crown, the Reach, Dorne, and the Westerlands).

The war seemed like it could go either way, until King Rhaegar met the would-be usurper Robert Baratheon in battle at Stonehelm, where King Rhaegar defeated Robert in a great duel, bravely slaying the drunkard villain.

-From the writings of Archmaester Gormon

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As has been said before, thanks to everyone who has gotten this far in my first story on this site. Any advice/criticism will be very appreciated, as I'm still a novice and need experience in writing.


	16. Chapter 11: Aegon Targaryen III

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just as a reminder, the italicized phrases are the ones being spoken in High Valyrian.

### Chapter 11: Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone III, 4 September 298 AC

“Garlan and the two Royces are probably the only knights with any skill that’ll joust today.” Aegon explained to his younger aunt Daenerys. “And he’s facing Lymond Bracken today, anyway. Your husband-to-be will easily defeat anyone he rides against. I guarantee you that he’ll be the one I’ll joust against in the final tilt of the tourney.”

“You really think so?” Dany asked.

“Yeah, the Bronze Yohn is nearing sixty and will probably be drunk off his arse all month.” Aegon elaborated. “And Nestor Royce hasn’t been in a proper joust since the Tourney of Harrenhal. He’s out of practice.”

“But what makes you think you’ll make it to the last tilt?” Rhaenys asked. “There are thirty-one other people that managed to win their jousts yesterday. You’ll have to be better than them to get to the final two.”

“And who would beat me, exactly?” Aegon boasted. “I have the strength of the dragon and the speed of the viper.”

“Who else has the speed of the viper, little brother?” Rhaenys grinned.

“Is that where you were all day yesterday?” Dany asked. “With Oberyn?”

“The Red Viper wasn’t quite discreet with his disguise.” Ser Oswell pointed out.

“Maybe,” Rhaenys winked.

“Speak of the devil, he must still be with Nymeria, yeah?” Oswell asked.

“She’s mostly better, but she’s resting in father’s tent.” Rhaenys explained. “He said he’d be with her through the rest of the day…Egg, I think that man’s trying to get your attention.”

Aegon looked to the side, where a man two rows down from them was saying something in another language. The man looked like he could be related to Aegon, with his Valyrian features, especially the hair and eyes. It took a bit of focus, but Aegon started to catch what he was saying. It was in High Valyrian.

“ _Could you repeat that?_ ” Aegon asked the man, switching to the Valyrian language.

“ _I was asking if I might sit with you, Prince Aegon._ ” The man repeated.

“ _I see no harm in it._ ” Aegon answered. “ _So long as neither of my two companions mind._ ”

“ _Go ahead,_ ” Rhaenys told the man, moving to sit on the other side of Dany instead of next to Aegon.

“ _I don’t mind._ ” Dany said.

The man sat next to Aegon, with a beautiful young woman, who looked very Valyrian, following him. The woman caught Aegon’s eye. She seemed to have an almost other-worldly beauty, even for someone with Valyrian blood. She wore a dress that was the color of smoke, with scarlet lining; and she had her silvery-white hair in a braid over her shoulder.

The man introduced himself as the woman sat down next to him. “ _It’s a pleasure to meet you, Prince of Dragonstone. _” Apparently the guy either didn’t speak the common tongue, or he preferred High Valyrian. “ _I am the heir to the House of Rogare, Lysandre Rogare, the wielder of the Valyrian Steel blade ‘Truth’._ ”__

__“ _Rogare. The patriarch of your house is Magister of Lys. What brings you to Westeros?_ ” Aegon asked._ _

__“ _Well, my good cousin,_ ” Lysandre explained, “ _I’m escorting this priestess of R’hllor to meet with you._ ”_ _

__“ _Cousin? I have one cousin, and you’re not him._ ” Aegon pointed out._ _

__“ _Nonsense, you must be forgetting. The Targaryen family’s patriarch married a member of the Rogare family not very long ago._ ” Lysandre told Aegon._ _

__“ _Well, he’s right._ ” Dany agreed. “ _King Viserys II married Larra Rogare._ ”_ _

__“ _Wasn’t he our great-times-a-thousand-grandfather?_ ” Aegon asked._ _

__“ _Just six ‘greats’, Egg._ ” Dany corrected._ _

__“ _See? We’re practically brothers._ ” The Rogare man nodded. “ _Your companion is as well-read as she is beautiful. Going by her looks, I’d assume that she’s the king’s sister, Daenerys of the house Targaryen? And your other companion must be the infamous ‘Fireknight’ of house Targaryen?_ ”_ _

__“ _You’d be correct on both accounts._ ” Rhaenys replied._ _

__“ _And who’s your priestess?_ ” Aegon asked, taking a good look at the woman._ _

__“ _Baela._ ” The Priestess said. “ _I’m known as Baela of the Dark Flame._ ”_ _

__Flames being extinguished, one by one…Aegon tried not to think of the prophecy._ _

__“The first joust is about to start.” Dany told the others, switching to the common tongue. As soon as she said it, she repeated it, switching back to High Valyrian._ _

__The first joust featured a mystery knight with a red horses’s head on a pink field as his sigil, representing the North; he was riding against Cador Belmore of the Vale. The mystery knight won. Aegon was a bit worried that the mystery knight would be a challenge for Garlan, but he figured that Garlan would do fine._ _

__For the next joust, the first knight to ride out was another mystery knight, representing the Stormlands._ _

__“Really? Two mystery knights in a row? There should be a limit on how many people can be in a tourney anonymously.” Aegon complained, switching the conversation to the Westerosi language._ _

__“He’s a big one, I’ll give him that. And look at his sigil.” Rhaenys said._ _

__“The quartered suns and moons of Tarth. Can’t be Galladon, he isn’t near that big. And his bastard brother Joffrey isn’t either, so it’s probably a cousin. Considering his sister’s size, I wouldn’t be surprised for one of his cousins to be that big.” Aegon replied._ _

__Old man Ulrick Dayne of Dorne rode out to challenge the mystery knight. After two tilts didn’t accomplish anything, the third had both knights off their horses. The mystery knight wrestled the man to the ground until Dayne yielded. The mystery knight of Tarth was proclaimed the winner._ _

__“That’s a shame. Dayne had a reputation for skill. But, I guess raw strength and size can get you somewhere.” Aegon said._ _

__“You don’t think Tarth will beat Garlan, do you?” Dany asked._ _

__“Nah, Garlan has the strength and the skill.” Aegon answered. “Speak of the devil….”_ _

__For the next joust, it was Garlan the Gallant against Lymond Bracken. Dany and Rhaenys were cheering as loudly as they could, as Garlan’s horse charged. Aegon couldn’t help but cheer, too, as Lymond Bracken was knocked off of his horse._ _

__“Told you he’d be fine.” Aegon said to Dany._ _

__“ _Now that your friend has won his joust,_ ” Baela said, in High Valyrian, “ _might I have a word, in private? Rogare must go somewhere, and I need to discuss important matters with you._ ” The priestess stood up and started walking away, with Rogare going in a different direction._ _

__“ _She seems interesting, Egg. Maybe you should go with her._ ” Rhaenys advised. “ _I’ll keep an eye on Dany._ ”_ _

__“ _Fine, she’ll probably just try to convert me._ ” Aegon faked an expression of pain at the idea of another religious nut trying to get at him, and followed the priestess away from the crowds as the next joust was going on, Howland Reed against Desmond Redwyne._ _

__The woman started talking once they were out of hearing range of anyone. “ _The glass candles are burning in the house of Urrathon Night-Walker. They burn dim, and yet they burn._ ”_ _

__Aegon wasn’t sure what to say. The woman must just be talking about metaphors like the septons do. She seemed to be walking in the direction of the Dornish tents._ _

__“ _Fires are burning. A bright flame, a bitter flame, a strong flame, a weak flame…and you and I, the black flame and the red._ ” The priestess continued, approaching Rhaenys’s tent. As Aegon was about to order her to stay away from his sister’s belongings, the priestess said something else. “And all extinguished, one by one.”_ _

__“ _Where did you hear that?_ ” Aegon demanded. “ _And why are we at my sister’s tent?_ ”_ _

__“ _Your sister has been worried throughout the day. Her candle is missing._ ” The woman seemed to be ignoring Aegon’s questions._ _

__“ _What are you talking about? Candles are cheap, she wouldn’t care about losing one._ ” Aegon replied._ _

__The priestess shook her head. “ _Prince of Dragonstone, ask your sister about her red candle. And, if you want to understand her dream, come find me at sundown._ ”_ _

__“ _Where will you be?_ ” Aegon asked._ _

__“ _Once the sun is setting, you will know where I am. Now, return to your sister, and give her this._ ” The priestess had a block of twisted black obsidian in her hand. She must have slid it out of her sleeve; Aegon hadn’t noticed her move her arms at all. She held up the obsidian, offering it to Aegon. “ _Be careful, Targaryen, it will cut you easily._ ”_ _

__Aegon took the obsidian. The priestess was right, the edges seemed as sharp as razors. “ _What is it?_ ”_ _

__“ _A glass candle._ ” The priestess answered simply. “ _Black, to go with the red one your sister owns. The colors of house Targaryen…and the colors of house Blackfyre._ ”_ _

__“ _Blackfyre? The Blackfyre pretenders? Are they trying to launch another invasion?_ ” Aegon asked._ _

__The priestess sighed and left the tent. Aegon followed her out, but she seemed to have disappeared as soon as she was out of his sight._ _

__Confused, he ran back to where Rhaenys was._ _


	17. Chapter 12: Daenerys Targaryen I

### Chapter 12: Princess Daenerys Targaryen I, 4 September 298 AC

“ _She seems interesting, Egg._ ” Rhaenys poined out. “ _Maybe you should go with her. I’ll keep an eye on Dany._ ” Rhaenys put her hand on Dany’s shoulder.

Dany didn’t expect to be in any harm around here. There were hundreds of chivalrous knights that could protect her. Though, she did get a bad feeling from the witch-woman trying to lure Egg away. Rhae and Egg would probably think she was being childish if she spoke up about it though.

“ _Fine, she’ll probably just try to convert me._ ” Egg made a funny face; Dany couldn’t resist a giggling. Then, he followed the witch-woman away.

“I love you.” Dany mouthed the words as Egg left her view. Garlan had always warned her about last words to someone. He said that, when his older brother Willas got hurt, Garlan had insulted Willas for being weak out of jealousy that Willas got to be in a joust before Garlan was old enough to do so.

But, of course he didn’t hear her. Even Rhaenys didn’t hear any of it.

As the next couple of jousters began, Dany was too distracted to pay attention. Finally, she spoke out loud. “Rhaenys, I think you should go after him.”

“Egg won’t mind missing a few jousts.” Rhaenys replied, not unkindly. “Besides, he’s probably looking to bed the woman. Let him have his fun.”

Dany tried to suppress her worry. Rhae was probably right, the woman wouldn’t hurt Egg. No one could hurt Egg.

“Look who’s come to see you.” Rhaenys nudged Dany’s arm, waking her up from her thoughts.

Dany looked up. It was Garlan. Having him around would put her worries to rest, she was sure of it. “Ser Garlan, I’m glad you won your joust.”

Garlan smiled as he sat in the stands next to her. “I could never lose, so long as I have your favor on my lance.”

Dany felt her face get red. “Thank you….”

“Ser Garlan, do you see this blasphemy?!” Rhaenys interrupted the two.

“I beg your pardon, Princess Rhaenys?” Garlan looked over Dany at Rhaenys.

“That knight’s sigil!” Rhaenys exclaimed.

Garlan and Dany looked down at the two current competitors. Dany recognized the sigil of Ser Cortnay Penrose on the first man…but the other was a mystery knight. The mystery knight’s shield had a dragon on it. But not the red dragon on black of her family. It had the black dragon on red of the extinct House Blackfyre. “Why would someone use the sigil of a house of traitors?” Dany asked.

“Garlan, Daenerys, we have to find Aegon.” Rhaenys stood up and made her way out of the crowd.

With Garlan’s hand holding hers, Garlan and Daenerys followed Rhaenys out of the crowd. Thankfully, Egg was running in their direction, so finding him wasn’t difficult. He had something black and shiny in his hand.

Egg stopped in front of Rhaenys. “What the hell is a glass candle?” He demanded, as he held up the thing in his hand. It looked kind of like a candle. “And why did you have something like it?”

Rhaenys had anger in her voice when she answered him. “Aegon, where did you get that?”

“The priestess,” Egg answered. “All I know is that it might have something to do with those dreams you have. But, for the sake of the family, you have to tell me more.”

Rhaenys snatched it out of his hand, the edges cutting into her hand as she gripped it. “These aren’t meant for you, Egg. Ser Garlan, find and apprehend a Valyrian looking woman in a dark dress. In fact, apprehend any woman who looks Valyrian who isn’t a member of the Targaryen family.”

Garlan let go of Dany’s hand and drew his sword, leaving to follow the order that Rhaenys gave him. Dany wasn’t sure whether to follow him or stay with Egg and Rhae…but he was gone before she could figure out what was best. “I love you.” She mouthed the words in the direction he’d gone, hoping that he’d be safe.

“What are glass candles, Rhaenys. Explain them.” Aegon ordered.

Through clenched teeth, Rhaenys answered simply, “The most powerful thing this family has had since the death of the dragons.”

“I need more to go off of than that. You have to trust me.”

“Don’t give me that shit, Aegon. I don’t have to trust you. I don’t have to trust anyone.” Rhaenys gripped the candle tighter, blood dripping from her hand. “Tell me what the bitch told you and I might tell you more.”

“The glass candles are burning in the house of Urrathon Night-Walker.” Aegon repeated. “And she knew about your most recent dream. A bright flame, bitter flame, a weak flame, and a strong flame…and she said that we were the black and red flame. Not us, but her and me.” Aegon explained.

“Black flame…like Blackfyre?” Dany asked.

“Probably,” Aegon looked at Dany for a moment, and then focused on Rhaenys again. “She said you lost your red candle.”

Rhaenys shut her eyes tightly. “Urrathon Night-Walker is….” Rhaenys opened her eyes and looked at Dany. “Dany, go back to the crowd and find my father. Don’t tell him about any of this. Just stay near him, you should be safe. If you see one of the kingsguard first, stay with them. Preferably Ser Bonifer, Ser Oswell, or Ser Arthur.”

“But, what if I…” Dany started to say.

“Go!” Rhaenys ordered.

Dany ran in the direction of Rhaegar.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who made it to my first Dany chapter. With the tourney well under way, I'd be as thankful as ever for any advice/criticism.


	18. Chapter 13: Gerold Dayne I

### Chapter 13: Gerold Dayne I, 4 September 298 AC

“Egg, Fireknight, it’s a pleasure to see you both.” Gerold greeted, as he approached the two during what seemed like a lovers’ quarrel. “Am I interrupting something? I hope I am.”

Both of the royal fools stopped talking and looked at Gerold. “Darkstar, we’re a bit busy.” Egg said.

“Ah, yes, of course.” Gerold looked at the princess’s bleeding hand as it held some block of obsidian; it looked like a black glass candle. “Sweet Rhaenys, should I fetch a maester? We can’t have king’s blood leaking all around the Frey lands, can we?”

Rhaenys sighed. “Darkstar, unless you know something about glass candles, please leave.”

Gerold shrugged. “I know how to kill traitors. That’s a useful enough skill that I don’t need fake candles.”

“Give him a break, Rhae,” Egg, as always, was quick to defend Gerold; maybe that was why Gerold was so willing to help the boy whenever asked. Egg turned his head to address Gerold. “Darkstar, I trust you to keep whatever’s said today as private. You can assure Rhaenys of this, I’m sure.”

Gerold, barely containing a laugh, bowed to Rhaenys. “Fireknight, my life, my secrets, and my sword all belong to Prince Aegon of the house Targaryen, the Prince of Dragonstone.” As always, he preferred a bit of the dramatic when it came to vows. “You have my deepest vow that I would never betray Prince Aegon’s trust.”

“Didn’t stop you from telling my father when I tried to run away as a child.” Rhaenys muttered bitterly.

“Milady,” Gerold put on a face of pure confusion. “I had no idea that you were Prince Aegon of Dragonstone.”

Rhaenys shook her head, her eyes closed tightly. Gerold just loved annoying her.

“Gerold is my most loyal companion.” Egg told his sister. “Now, please, tell me. What is going on about these pieces of obsidian?”

“Fine. Egg, glass candles are a focus for magic, most commonly sending messages.” Rhaenys explained.

“Magic’s not real; it died out with old Valyria.” Egg countered.

Gerold made a mental note to explain some things to Egg once they were in private.

“Egg, I’ll prove it to you. Walk somewhere far enough away that you couldn’t possibly hear me.” Rhaenys ordered.

Egg started walking away; Gerold, as always, followed him. “This sounds crazy, Darkstar.” Egg muttered to his friend. “Mayhaps Rhaenys hired some witch to help pull a prank on me.”

“That could be the case,” Gerold replied. “What did the ‘witch’ say?”

“She knew about Rhaenys’s prophecy that she told me about at the Dragon Gate, which I’ll have to explain to you later; Rhaenys wouldn’t use something so important as a dragon dream in a prank…right?” Egg asked. “And she gave me that black block that Rhaenys took from me. The witch claims that Rhaenys recently lost a red one.”

Gerold whispered as they walked, “Egg, listen closely. Glass candles are dangerous to have. If you value your own life, let Rhaenys keep it and never talk to her about it again. But…since you’re you,” Gerold knew this would be an interesting path for his friend to take, “once you get it back from Rhaenys, we can see if what I’ve heard about these things are true.” Egg looked unsure as they walked. Gerold pressed the issue. “Egg, I’ve known you since you were a child; hell, I’ve known you since I was a child.” Admittedly, Gerold wasn’t much older than Egg. He was only about nine years the boy’s senior.

Egg still wasn’t responding.

Gerold frowned. He hoped his friend was unhurt. “Egg? Say something.”

Egg stopped walking, standing there wide-eyed.

“Egg!” Gerold was starting to get a little scared. He grabbed his friend’s shoulders and shook him.

Egg started blinking. “Gerold, she was telling the truth.” Egg turned around and started running back to where his sister was.

Rhaenys must have been telling Egg something with the candle. “Seven hells,” Gerold sighed. Too quiet for Egg or anyone to hear, he muttered, “Don’t scare me like that again, idiot, or I’ll slit your throat myself.” Gerold started running after his friend.

Once Gerold reached Egg and Rhaenys, he found that apparently they’d already started talking without him.

“We’ll have to tell Uncle Oberyn.” Egg was saying. “But we need to be sure father doesn’t find out.”

The decision made sense to Gerold. The king thought he understood prophecy, but he was always too eager to go along with them, uncaringly damning the people around him with his actions.

“Who do you think taught me?” Rhaenys replied. “Our uncle has been everywhere, from Oldtown to the furthest corners of Essos.”

So, apparently she’d gotten the information from Oberyn. At least that meant Great-Aunt Larra of High Hermitage hadn’t told her. The question was, did the Fireknight learn more or less than the Daynes knew?

“And neither of you thought to tell me?” Egg questioned.

“Our uncle thought it was too dangerous for you.” Rhaenys explained. “And besides, he only had one candle to give.”

“One candle that you lost.” Egg pointed out.

Gerold couldn’t resist a laugh. “Egg has a point, princess. Now why don’t you give your brother back his candle?”

“Yeah, I think it’d be a lot safer with me.” Egg said.

Rhaenys offered the twisted piece of black obsidian back to her brother, which he promptly took. “Just, whatever you do, don’t lose it.” The princess urged.

“Relax,” Gerold told Rhaenys. “Egg’s reliable. Aren’t you, Prince Aegon?”

Being able to whisper in a prince’s ear was one thing. But, being able to whisper in the ear of a prince with a glass candle…that might be even better than becoming king of the Torrentine.


	19. Chapter 14: Ashara Dayne I

### Chapter 14 Ashara Dayne I, 5 September 298 AC

The third day of the jousts. Ashara would be lying if she claimed her time here was enjoyable. But, as queen, lying about that kind of thing was her duty.

“Mother, hurry!” Her eldest daughter, Visenya, a girl of eleven, urged. “Egg’s joust is about to start!” Visenya was considered the realm’s delight, much like Queen Rhaenyra was; but, hopefully, Visenya would be remembered much more fondly by the realm than Rhaenyra ended up being. In comparison to another Targaryen, Visenya looked and acted much like many would imagine the first queen Rhaenys had; a far cry from her elder half-sister, as Princess Rhaenys behaved in a way much more reminiscent of the Queen Visenya. To go along with the connections to Queen Rhaenyra and Queen Rhaenys, little Visenya also had a few traits similar to Princess Elaena, the daughter of Aegon III: most notably her gentleness and platinum-white hair with one thick black streak, as opposed to Elaena’s golden streak. Rhaegar seemed to have a ‘secret’ intention to have the crown Prince Aegon married to Visenya as well as Rhaenys, unfortunately. Ashara’s sweet little Visenya might not do so well in a rivalry with the Fireknight; though Ashara loved her step-daughter dearly, Visenya was Ashara’s. To make it worse, though Aegon and Visenya both seemed unaware that Aegon would have a second bride, Visenya had a habit of watching Aegon duel his friends in the practice yard without the boy being aware.

“Egg won’t be jousting until six other knights have had their turns, sweetling.” Ashara assured her eldest daughter.

“What about Ser Darkstar?” Alysanne asked. “His joust will be before Egg’s, and twice as important.” Unlike Visenya, who was more similar to the historical Elaena, the eight-year-old Alysanne was more like the historical Daena the defiant, in appearance as well as stubbornness, and hair of pure Targaryen silver. Though betrothed to her younger brother Valarr, the girl had been obsessed with Ashara’s cousin Darkstar for months. In fact, she was the one who’d given her elder sister Visenya the idea to sneak onto the practice yard, dressed as commoners, to watch Aegon train with Darkstar. Thankfully, despite being the symbol of dishonor, Darkstar was not one to do anything cruel to a girl of eight…or, at least Ashara hoped that was the case. After she’d heard someone compare her to the defiant Princess Daena of history, Alysanne had even started trying to learn archery. Now the girl carried around a small bow modelled after Daena’s that Aegon and Darkstar had gotten the idea to give her.

“Ser Gerold,” Ashara corrected, “will not have his joust until only right before Aegon’s. I promise we’ll be there in time for today’s joust and all the rest that the two have.”

“Even if they both win today they’ll be against each other tomorrow.” A deep and familiar voice said from behind them.

“Ser Hound!” Visenya exclaimed, running to the giant of a man. Unlike Darkstar, at least Ser Sandor Clegane was trustworthy, despite his reputation. Ser Sandor picked up Visenya once she was close. If there was anyone Visenya adored near as much as Aegon, it was probably Ser Sandor; Ashara couldn’t blame her, as the Hound had always been loyal to Aegon and kind to all of Ashara’s children, especially Jon and Visenya.

“Well, tomorrow Ser Darkstar will knock Egg off of his horse easily.” Alysanne announced proudly, but with her eyes avoiding looking at Ser Sandor’s scarred face.

“No, Egg will win, I guarantee it.” Visenya replied. “In fact, I dreamed he would win the tourney. And Targaryen dreams always come true.” The girl turned her head to address Ser Sandor. “Ser Hound, will you watch the jousts with us?”

Ashara decided not to point out that not all Targaryen dreams were prophecies, if Visenya’s father’s delusions were anything to consider.

“No, I have things to do today.” Clegane answered. “Besides, your uncle is supposed to take over guarding you once I’ve dropped you three off near the king.”

Ashara assumed that the man’s ‘things’ all involved women, gambling, or drinking. Probably all three.

“Please, Ser Hound?” Visenya pleaded. “Just until Egg’s joust ends?”

“The hound can’t be near the place of honor.” Alysanne pointed out. “He’s not honored.”

“You were fine with Darkstar being there when you asked him to yesterday.” Visenya countered. “I promise it’ll be fun, Ser Hound. Please?” Ashara was beyond thankful that Darkstar had decided to go bed whores instead of watching the joust with her daughters.

“Fine, fine.” Clegane sighed. “I’ll help Dayne guard you during the jousts.”

With the Hound carrying Visenya, Ashara held Alysanne’s hand as they walked to where King Rhaegar sat. Ashara sat in a seat behind her husband, with Alysanne in her lap. The Hound stayed standing nearby, next to Ashara’s brother Arthur, with Visenya on the Hound’s shoulders for a better view.

The first of the jousts was the ‘mystery knight of the red viper, champion of Dorne’, or Oberyn Martell, as Ashara was sure he was, against the kingsguard member Ser Jaime Lannister, champion of the Westerlands. Ashara almost hoped that Lannister would win, even if only for someone to hurry up and force Oberyn to reveal himself. He really should have picked a less obvious sigil.

From the Hound’s shoulders, Visenya was cheering for Lannister to win, while Alysanne cheered on the mystery knight. Valarr most likely hoped for Lannister’s win as well, as he was down there squiring for him. Valarr was her youngest son, the third born son King Rhaegar, and only six years old; it was surprising that the boy had been made a squire so early. Rhaegar probably only let him squire so early so that Valarr would stop begging. Thanks to Aegon’s gifts and stories, Valarr was obsessed with knighthood. He even wanted to be in the kingsguard someday, despite being told that he would be married to Alysanne instead of being put in an order of celibate knights.

In the first and second tilts, both men managed to stay on their horses; the third saw Ser Jaime on the ground.

“Got a bit of dirt on his white cloak!” The Hound shouted, laughing.

The next joust was between Ashara’s good-brother Viserys Targaryen and the bastard Walder Rivers, who was allowed to use his father’s sigil to represent the Freys. Apparently he’d been made replacement champion for the Riverlands after Lyonel Frey’s loss; he’d even been allowed to use the Frey name, though most people knew he was a bastard, Ashara was sure. Both of her daughters began cheering for Walder, as their elder brother Aegon had spent years telling getting them to hate their Targaryen uncle. To Ashara, though, the whole thing seemed stupid. Aegon and Viserys were family, and yet both seemed equally hateful to each other.

Thankfully for Aegon and the Riverlands, Walder knocked Viserys to the ground on the first tilt. Darkstar and Tygett Lannister were the next to joust, another match where both of her daughters cheered for the same man; Visenya seemed overjoyed by Darkstar’s victory in the second tilt of the second joust.

Aegon’s joust was against Mark Ryswell of the North. Visenya was cheering as loudly as she could for her eldest brother, with Alysanne cheering nearly as loud; in fact, even Ashara’s husband Rhaegar was cheering for Aegon.

Ashara couldn’t help cheering for the prince as well; even though she was accused of being a replacement Dornishwoman for Elia Martell (which even Ashara knew she was), Aegon had always treated her kindly, even if not quite warmly. At least the boy seemed to love all of his half-siblings. Aegon had told her that he treasured Orys as his own flesh and blood, despite their religious differences, and Orys had never given Ashara reason to doubt this. Aegon would bring dresses and musical instruments and books for Visenya whenever he went on journeys with Oberyn. The crown prince went in search of a skilled fletcher to bring to King’s Landing to make arrows for Alysanne. Aegon would even read stories of knights to Valarr and bring his youngest brother toy soldiers. Truly, Aegon seemed to love all of his half-siblings as if they shared both parents.

So, Ashara was more than happy to cheer along with her husband and daughters as Aegon defeated the man of the North. Elia’s son had definitely not inherited his mother’s health, going by his robust nature. He would be a good king, Ashara was sure; and, more importantly, he’d be good to Ashara’s children. Orys, Jon, Visenya, Alysanne, and Valarr would probably all be safe and cared for by Aegon when he became king. Aegon certainly paid more attention to them than Rhaegar, at least.

The next joust had a Frey defeat the Stormlander champion, Manfred Dondarrion. And then Barristan Selmy, as the replacement champion for the Stormlands following Manfred’s defeat, was to ride against Lyn Corbray, the man from the Vale who had unhorsed the Hound.

Visenya was shouting, “Kill that cheater! Kill him!” She’d been convinced that Corbray had been cheating somehow when he defeated Clegane.  
Alysanne, likewise, was cheering for Ser Barristan, probably because she actually knew Ser Barristan better than she knew some knight from the Vale; though, Alysanne didn’t seem to want Corbray’s death as much as her sister seemed to.

Though Corbray was not injured, he did lose this joust, resulting in laughter from Clegane and Visenya. Ashara thought Selmy was a good man, brave and true…but she hoped that he wouldn’t win the tourney. He’d once confessed to her that he’d have crowned her the Queen of Love and Beauty, had he won the Tourney of Harrenhal on that fateful day, nearly two decades ago. Ashara feared that Selmy would actually crown her with the wreath of flowers, if he were to win. Hopefully the poor man would be defeated by an opponent with a good enough reputation that Selmy would have no shame in his loss. Ser Lyn Corbray could have been such a man.

Barristan did deserve a victory, though. He was a man of honor, without doubt. Unlike Ashara, who had made a grave mistake, about thirteen years ago. A grave mistake that could cost a good man his life, and had cost that man his honor, even if it had never been made public.


	20. Chapter 15: Jon Targaryen III

### Chapter 15: Prince Jon Targaryen III, 5 September 298

“That mystery knight is up next,” Dany told Sarella Sand, who was sitting to her left. Jon sat to the right of Dany with his former step-grandfather and current guard, Ser Bonifer Hasty of the kingsguard.

Dany’s words were proven true, as the herald announced, “The next joust will have the mystery knight of the red river, representing the Riverlands, against Ser Samwell the Savage of House Tarly, representing the Reach as its champion.”

“I hope that Tarly man wins.” Sarella said. “There are far too many mystery knights in this tourney. There are, how many, seven that signed up as mystery knights for this tourney?”

“Nine if you count Ser Renfred Rykker and your father.” Daenerys replied. “Though everyone knows who the knight of the red viper is, and Ser Renfred was defeated and had to reveal his identity in the first round.”

“Nine’s even worse.” Sarella sighed. “Hopefully most of those eight remaining will be unhorsed this round. Good luck to Sam Tarly.”

“We’ll cheer him on for this round.” Dany decided.

Fortunately for Sarella, Tarly managed to unhorse the mystery knight in the first tilt, leaving the defeated man to reveal himself. As the mystery knight took off his helmet, most recognized him as Lord Paramount Edmure Tully of the Riverlands. Only seven were left of the mystery knights.

On the subject of mystery knights, Jon had been worried ever since the previous day, where a knight had ridden with a black dragon on red as his sigil. Some had considered it as treason and expected Jon’s father to force him to reveal himself, but the king claimed that, so long as the mystery knight would be allowed to remain a mystery until someone defeated him and forced him to reveal himself; that was the rule of a tourney. Father assured him that it would be fine and to not worry himself with someone’s idea of comedy.

The next joust saw Ser Aurane Waters of house Velaryon defeat Ser Lucas Blackwood; the one after was announced to be between two mystery knights. The mystery knight of the red horse on pink, from the North, against the mystery knight of the Evenstar, from the Stormlands.

“Two mystery knights against each other?” Dany said. “That might be unheard of!”

“Bright side. This guarantees someone has to reveal himself.” Sarella said evenly.

“I hope the Evenstar wins.” Jon decided. “He’s huge and strong.”

But, this match ended on the first tilt, with the mystery knight of the red horse defeating the mystery knight of the Evenstar. The loser was forced to remove his helmet, revealing that he was actually an incredibly ugly woman whose hair was so thin that she looked like she was going bald.

“Biggest woman I’ve ever seen.” Sarella claimed with a chuckle. “Poor girl’s face is red as a beet, though.”

“The loser of this joust is Lady Brienne of Tarth,” the herald announced, after the girl quietly revealed her name.

“Garlan is up next,” Daenerys announced excitedly.

Ser Garlan the Gallant was the pinnacle of chivalry, like a knight from the legends. No doubt he would win.

“Ser Garlan the Gallant of house Tyrell rides against Ser Howland Reed.” The herald loudly proclaimed.

Dany was smiling wide as she cheered for Ser Garlan.

As the two horses charged forward, Ser Garlan’s lance broke against the Northerner’s shield, forcing Reed off of his horse and onto the ground.

The next joust was between Torrhen Karstark and another mystery knight, much to Lady Sarella’s annoyance. This mystery knight had an interesting sigil, though; it featured a red horse with dragon wings, breathing fire on a yellow field.

“Come on, knock that mystery shit off his horse!” Sarella shouted. But, Karstark ended up hitting the ground, with the victory going to the mystery knight with the fire-breathing horse.

The next joust was between Lord Addam Marbrand, the last competitor from the Westerlands, and the mystery knight with the sigil of the traitorous black dragon.

“A fucking mystery knight again! Seven hells! You see what I mean, Dany?!” Sarella exclaimed.

“Lord Marbrand is a talented jouster,” Ser Bonifer assured Sarella. “The knight of the black dragon will be unhorsed and his identity will be revealed shortly, I’m sure.”

“And I’ll stick him in the arse with an arrow.” Sarella muttered.

The black dragon may not have won any of the Blackfyre Rebellions, but the knight of the black dragon did win this joust. With the loss of the last champion of the Westerlands, Lord Tyrion Lannister abandoned his seat of honor among the other six, claiming that he needed a drink and a woman.

The rest of the round passed without much excitement, relatively. None of the remaining mystery knights were defeated so far, although there was one last mystery knight set for a joust as the last pair of the round.

The mystery knight rode against Bronze Yohn Royce of the Vale. On the mystery knight’s shield was a bright flame, its colors a swirl of red and yellow and orange. The two lowered their lances as they got closer and closer, their horses charging.

The Bronze Yohn’s lance broke against the mystery knight’s shield, knocking the fool to the ground. The mystery knight got up and started to walk away.

“Not so fast,” the Bronze Yohn called out. “Reveal yourself, as the rules state a defeated mystery knight must.” As if to emphasize the order, an arrow from the other side of the lanes shot into the ground in front of the mystery knight of the bright flame.

The mystery knight stopped in his tracks and took off his helmet. He was some man with black hair. “Rhaegar Targaryen is no king!” the man announced loudly. “He is a usurper! Aerion Brightflame was the true king, and his son Maegor Brightflame after him! The younger son of King Maekar had no right to sit the throne! Aegon the Fifth should never have inherited! Neither him, nor his son Jaehaerys, nor his son the Mad King, nor….” The traitor went silent, an arrow sticking out of his throat.

Jon looked to his right. This arrow hadn’t come from the same place as the last, he realized, as Sarella Sand was readying a second arrow.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, thanks to everyone who has made it this far, again. Any and all advice/criticisms would be appreciated.
> 
> On the subject of Sam Tarly, as this is based on a simulation game in which I started the campaign during Robert's Rebellion, that's my excuse for why Sam went is "Sam the Savage" instead of "Ser Piggy". Blame the RNG.


	21. Overview 3: The First Blackfyre Rebellion

### Overview 3: From the First Blackfyre Rebellions Onwards, 5 September 298 AC

In the year 196 AC, a great rebellion broke out, with Daemon Blackfyre (the legitimized bastard of King Aegon IV) declaring his intention to seize the crown from King Daeron II Targaryen (the trueborn son of King Aegon IV, known as Daeron the Good). Daemon Blackfyre was led to become a traitor by another of King Aegon IV’s bastards: Aegor Bittersteel. Daemon’s mother was known as Daena the Defiant, a daughter of the third King Aegon, known as Aegon the Dragonbane.

Aegor Bittersteel was known as an angry man, one who despised his brothers Daeron Targaryen and Brynden Bloodraven; it is widely believed that Aegor’s hatred of Brynden came from their mutual love and competition for another of King Aegon IV’s many bastards, Shiera Seastar, a woman famed for her beauty and known widely as a sorceress. Much to Bittersteel’s anger, Lady Shiera preferred the company of Bloodraven, a man who seemed to be a sorcerer and monster.

The First Blackfyre Rebellion ended when Bloodraven committed the most heinous crime: kinslaying. During a battle, Bloodraven used his weirwood bow to slay Daemon Blackfyre and his eldest sons, the twins Aegon and Aemon.

King Daeron the Good was the twelfth man to sit the Iron Throne, and he had four trueborn sons: Prince Baelor ‘Breakspear’ Targaryen, Prince Aerys Targaryen, Prince Rhaegel Targaryen, and Prince Maekar ‘the Anvil’ Targaryen. As Prince Baelor was slain by his brother Prince Maekar during a Trial of Seven, the throne went to Prince Aerys, who became known as King Aerys I Targaryen, he was the thirteenth man to sit the Iron Throne and died without issue.

As Rhaegel and all of his children died before King Aerys I, the fourteenth man to sit the Iron Throne was King Maekar I ‘the Anvil’ Targaryen. King Maekar had six children. The first was Daeron ‘the Drunkard’, who died prior to his father, and thus did not inherit the throne; his only child, a slow-witted daughter, was passed over for inheritance. The second, Aerion ‘the Monstrous’ Targaryen, known as Brightflame, drank wildfire in the attempt to become a dragon, prior to his father’s death; thanks to Aerion’s reputation, his young son Maegor Brightflame was also passed over. The third son was originally chosen as the new king by a council, but he, as a maester, rejected the idea. King Maekar’s fourth child and sixth child were both girls. The fifth child became the fifth Aegon to sit the Iron Throne; thanks to how low he was on the list of successors he was given the title ‘Aegon the Unlikely’ or ‘Aegon the Fortunate’.

King Aegon V ‘the Unlikely’ Targaryen was the fifteenth man to sit the Iron Throne. His control over the realm was questionable, as he was considered ‘half a peasant’ due to squiring for a hedge knight and pretending to be the knight’s lowborn squire for many years. King Aegon married Betha Blackwood for love, and thus did not force his children into the marriages he and his wife had arranged for them. Instead of marrying a relative of Lyonel ‘the Laughing Storm’ Baratheon, Lord Paramount of the Stormlands (until the rebellion known as ‘Robert’s Rebellion’, the Baratheons were the family in control of the Stormlands), Prince Duncan ‘the Small’ Targaryen married a common woman he fancied. For this, King Aegon V disinherited his eldest son, instead making his second son the heir. The second son, Jaehaerys II, was betrothed to Celia Tully, but eloped with his younger sister Shaera Targaryen. The third child, Shaera Targaryen, was set to marry Luthor Tyrell; her elopement ended this betrothal. The fourth child, Daeron Targaryen, was set to marry Olenna Redwyne (this woman is currently alive and is the mother of Mace Tyrell, Olenna is commonly known as ‘the Queen of Thorns’); like his siblings, Daeron rejected this betrothal…but, unlike his siblings, Daeron was never married, instead he preferred to spend all of his time in the company of a young knight known as Ser Jeremy Norridge. The last of King Aegon V’s children, Rhaelle, was the only one who went along with her parents’ wishes, marrying Lord Paramount Ormund Baratheon. Rhaelle was the mother of Lord Paramount Steffon Baratheon and the grandmother of the traitor Robert Baratheon; being the grandson of Rhaelle Targaryen was one of the things that may have influenced Robert to rebel.

Upon the death of King Aegon V, his second born son Jaehaerys II became the sixteenth king to sit the Iron Throne. King Jaehaerys II Targaryen only had two children: Aerys and Rhaella, who were married to each other. King Jaehaerys was king during the War of the Nine-Penny Kings, during which the last male Blackfyre was slain.

With King Jaehaerys II’s death, his son became known as King Aerys II Targaryen, known as ‘the Mad King’. After King Aerys II drank wildfire in the attempt to become a dragon, resulting in his death. King Aerys had two children at the time of his death: Rhaegar and Viserys. However, after his death, Aerys’s sister-wife birthed him a daughter, who was given the name Daenerys.

The seventeenth king on the Iron Throne, who sits the throne to this day, is King Rhaegar Targaryen, first of his name, king of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. King Rhaegar’s expected successor is Prince Aegon of Dragonstone, a man known for his bravery and skill; Prince Aegon will most likely be married to his elder sister Rhaenys Targaryen. Rhaegar also has five younger children, ensuring that the Targaryen line lasts as long as the realm does: Prince Orys, Prince Jon, Princess Visenya, Princess Alysanne, and Princess Valarr.

The eighteenth king on the Iron Throne will be known as King Aegon VI Targaryen.

-From the writings of Archmaester Ebbert


	22. Chapter 16: Aegon Targaryen IV

### Chapter 16: Prince Aegon of Dragonstone IV, 6 September 298 AC

“Father, a word,” Aegon shouted up at the seats of honor, where all of the honored guests, with the exception of Lord Tyrion, were sitting in patience. Lord Tyrion was probably still drinking, as he’d been doing since the day before; Aegon quite liked the man, especially after sharing drinks with him the day before. Not only was it good to have someone to talk to about the books Aegon loved reading, but it also made Aegon think. Years ago, Uncle Oberyn had told Aegon of when he’d first seen Lord Tyrion, when Lady Cersei Lannister showed Oberyn and Aegon’s mother the infant Tyrion.

Oberyn had claimed that he was expecting to see a demon-monkey with bat wings and maybe two heads, and a tail was rumored to be there, as well. But, according to Oberyn, he didn’t see any of that…all he’d seen was a baby. It was certainly a story to think about.

But, now was not a time to think about that. He had to speak with the king. “Father!” Aegon shouted.

The king rolled his eyes and made his way to his heir. “What is it, Aegon? Not only am I supposed to be up there, but you have a joust coming up soon. What could be more important than the greatest tourney the realm has ever seen?” Aegon’s father said the last part with a smile. “You will be a legend, my son, what could possibly be more important than that?”

“Father, there are traitors among us.” Aegon informed. “More important than any legend, the family could be in danger, Father.”

Lord Stevron Frey made his way from the seat of honor to Aegon and his father, with some extremely large man with an axe, most likely his newest bodyguard, following close behind.

“Lord Frey,” Aegon regarded Stevron. “Good ser,” he regarded the large man with the long-axe. “I intended for my father to be the first one to hear my words, but it is good that you hear me, as well, Lord Frey.”

“What could possibly be so important?” Frey asked, in a way more worried and less rhetorical than Aegon’s father’s question.

“My son is being delusional,” the king answered, with an amused look on his face. “He believes that just because one man praises a long-dead prince, it must mean that we’re overrun with traitors.” The king laughed. “Quite delusional, wouldn’t you agree, Frey?”

“Father, there is a risk here. The royal family attends a large tourney, where multiple mystery knights wear the sigils representing traitors.” Aegon tried to explain. “Brightflame was not the only one with a representative here.”

“I’ll give you that a man wearing the sigil of Daemon Blackfyre was worrying,” the king admitted, “but, that is no reason for me to burn them to death. You may not be old enough to remember the days of my own father Aerys, but I can assure you that I do not intend to follow in his footstepts, regardless of any ‘plots’ you may dream up.”

“I’m not saying burn them, father, but, I beg you, force the ones representing traitors to reveal their identities in private, before this round. Somewhere private, most certainly, so they cannot make speeches.” Aegon pleaded.

“Aegon, you may be overreacting. Is this just so you mustn’t face as much competition?” the fool Rhaegar asked with a smirk that pissed Aegon off. “Have a little more confidence, Egg.”

“Your children may be in danger here!” Aegon exclaimed, his face getting red. His siblings were in danger. Jon, who he’d helped teach how to use a sword, was in danger. Visenya, who he’d always try to find a treasure for, was in danger. Alysanne, who wanted to show him how much better she’d gotten at archery every time he returned from a journey, was in danger. Valarr, who Aegon read to, was in danger. His Rhaenys was in danger. Aegon even cared about Orys being in danger. “My family may be in danger.” Aegon said, through clenched teeth.

“In danger from what, a few words from a few men among a thousand loyal men?” The imbecile Rhaegar asked, seemingly unfazed.

“From Brightflame! From Blackfyre!” Aegon yelled in his father’s face. “From the Bittersteel!”

No sooner were the words out of Aegon’s mouth than the large man with the long-axe slashed his weapon downwards, directly onto Frey’s head, in a splatter of blood and brain matter.

Within moments, people were screaming, Rhaegar was getting away from the big man with the long-axe, and Aegon was unsheathing his blade and slicing upwards diagonally, directly for the murderer’s throat. As soon as the first slice from Aegon cut the man’s throat, a second man’s sword was shoved straight into the man’s throat, lodged in. And a third man’s sword was in the stranger’s back.

As the murderer fell to the ground, a death grip on his long-axe, Aegon looked to see that the other two men who had attacked the murderer were Darkstar and the Hound. “Thank you, both of you.” Aegon told his two friends.

Rhaegar returned to where Aegon was standing. “That was…almost bad.” The king admitted.

“Now you see why we have to end the tourney.” Aegon said, at least glad that his father could finally see reason.

“No.” Rhaegar replied, dashing Aegon’s hopes. “A guard killing the man who hired him isn’t a conspiracy, it’s just an unfortunate event; an unfortunate event that adds to the reputation sellswords have for treachery. With Tyros Frey as the lord of the Crossing, the tourney will continue without delay. Trust me, boy, I’ve seen more than twice as many years as you have, I was a man grown before you were even born, there is no danger here.”

“Father, you’re not thinking! You’re being as deluded as the Mad King was!”

Rhaegar narrowed his eyes at Aegon. “Guard your tongue more carefully. You just witnessed the death of one man and played a part in killing someone; because of this, I pardon you for your treasonous words, as king of the realm. However, unless you immediately go to prepare for your joust, I will have you imprisoned until the day I die.”

Aegon kept his eyes in a death stare on Rhaegar. “Sandor, gather my younger siblings with my step-mother. See that no harm comes to them. Gerold, follow me for our joust.”

“I forfeit.” Gerold told Aegon. “I’ll gather your other siblings while the Hound guards the ones near where your father will be sitting during the jousts.”

“You wanted to win,” Aegon replied.

“You think I give a shit about some bloody horse competition?” Gerold asked. “Leave before the king does something drastic. Now.”

“In that case, I’ll find Jon and Dany. Gerold, find Valarr and Orys.” Aegon requested of his friend.

“Best follow your friend’s advice before I lose my patience and mercy. Be sure to tell one of the heralds about Dayne’s forfeit. You must not wake the dragon.” Rhaegar said, before returning to his seat of honor.

Aegon ran into the crowds just as the heralds were announcing the joust between the knight of the red viper and the bastard Walder Frey. Uncle Oberyn won soundly in the first tilt, as Aegon was informing one herald that Ser Gerold Dayne had forfeited the match.

Aegon was desperately searching through the stands for a member of his family as the herald declared that Ser Gerold Dayne of Dorne had forfeited the match. Aegon found Dany, Nymeria, Jon, Sarella, and Ser Bonifer just as Ser Barristan Selmy defeated Ser Hosteen Frey.

“Where’s Rhaenys?” Aegon asked Dany urgently.

“What’s wrong, Egg?” Dany asked.

“Where’s Rhaenys?!” Aegon repeated, more loudly.

“She’s…she said she’d be with Uncle Oberyn for the day.” Dany answered, with a look of confusion.

“Ser Bonifer, there’s been a murder. Carry Jon to the places of honor. Sandor and Gerold should be there with the rest of my family. Time is of the essence.” Aegon urged.

Without a word, Bonifer picked up Jon as the young prince was asking questions, questions that Aegon didn’t have time to process. Bonifer was immediately and aggressively forcing anyone out of the way as he was leaving the crowd.

With Jon being taken to safety, Aegon had more time. “Nym, Sarella, come with me. I need to have only the people I can trust gathered together somewhere safe; once they’re all together, they can be sent somewhere other than the places of honor.” Aegon explained.

With a knife in each hand, Nym stood up. “So you intend to wait out whatever treason is happening? That doesn’t sound very much like you.”

“Of course not.” Aegon answered. “Father doesn’t want me interrupting the tourney, so I’ll have to be ready in time for my joust against Uncle Oberyn. With Rhaenys around him, both of them are safe. And I can’t have the competitors representing traitors becoming aware of Rhaenys and I leaving.”

“What do you have in mind, then?” Sarella asked, her bow in one hand and an arrow in the other.

“The Blackfyre and Bittersteel traitors are still in the jousts. Bittersteel is up first, so I’ll reveal him after his joust, whether he wins or loses. I’ll have Garlan with me among the other competitors, so one of you tell Darkstar to be ready to put an arrow in Blackfyre if he tries to leave when I stop Bittersteel.” Aegon explained. “I’ll join the rest of the competitors after I get Dany to safety.”

“What if you get attacked by one of the traitors?” Dany asked.

“And what if the traitors escape or pull something like the Brightflame traitor while you and Darkstar aren’t here?” Nymeria asked. “The question was rhetorical. You have two Sand Snakes at your disposal.”

“We’ll keep our eyes on the competitors. If one of the traitors tries to escape, there will be an arrow and a knife on them faster than they can blink.” Sarella said.

“Thank you, cousins.” Aegon said, taking Dany’s hand and basically dragging her through the crowd.

“Egg, promise me that you and Garlan will be safe.” Dany ordered.

“You have my word,” Aegon vowed.

As they made their way through the crowd, Ser Samwell Tarly unhorsed Ser Aurane Waters on the fourth tilt. As they reached the places of honor, Garlan was starting the first tilt against the mystery knight of the red horse on pink; one of the non-traitorous mystery knights, Aegon figured.

“Dany, stay with the others.” Aegon ordered his aunt. Gerold, Sandor, and Ser Bonifer were standing with the younger Targaryens and Ashara Dayne. “Because of father’s idiocy, I can’t forfeit the joust.”

“Don’t let them hurt you, Aegon. Don’t let them hurt you or Garlan. I love you, and tell Garlan I love him.” Dany said, as Aegon was leaving.

“We’ll be fine! I’ll make sure of it!” Aegon shouted back as he ran away.

Aegon entered the area where the other competitors were. Apparently Garlan was on his seventh tilt against the red-horse mystery knight. “Prince Aegon?” Alyn Plumm approached Aegon.

“Alyn, there you are.” Aegon said. He assumed that, since his squire, Plumm, wasn’t royal, he was in no danger from traitors.

“Yes, Your Grace. Why did Ser Gerold forfeit?” Plumm asked.

“I’ll explain it later, Plumm.” Aegon answered, as Garlan defeated the mystery knight, revealing him as Domeric Bolton, who was using the sigil of the family he squired under, but with his family’s colors. Apparently the next jousters would be Ser Ronnel Dayne and the Bittersteel mystery knight. “Stay here, Alyn.”

Aegon ran onto the lanes as the Bittersteel mystery knight and Ronnel were riding towards each other. Aegon was relieved as the mystery knight was unhorsed, but worried when the knight tried to escape the field. The crown prince ran down the traitor, tackling him to the ground, armor and all.

“I will not suffer traitors putting my family at risk!” Aegon shouted, removing the man’s helmet.

“Kill me if you must, but the Golden Company will return to claim the land that rightfully belongs to them, prince. You’ll not have a word about Bittersteel’s legacy from me.” The traitor vowed.

“If I can’t have a word, I’ll have your life.” Aegon shoved a knife into the man’s neck, and then stood up, ready to announce that the tourney was over.

“From the orders of King Rhaegar of the House Targaryen and Lord Tyros of the House Frey, the tourney will continue regardless of any unfortunate events.” A herald shouted, before Aegon could end it. “Anyone who tries to stop the tourney, including the prince of Dragonstone, will be imprisoned or executed as traitors should they try to go against the king’s word. If the prince of Dragonstone attempts forfeit, he will be locked in the dungeons of the Crossing, according to King Rhaegar. Lord Tyros and King Rhaegar have also decreed that the jousts will go on until there is one clear winner today.”

As Aegon walked off of the lanes, pissed beyond sense, the Blackfyre traitor approached him. And then, the traitor said something Aegon hadn’t expected at all. In High Valyrian, the mystery knight of the black dragon said, “Wow, glad you caught that traitor in time. I trust you to keep this a secret, cousin, but secretly….” The mystery knight trailed off for a moment, and then lifted the visor of his helmet. It was that Rogare man. “It’s me! Remember? I’m Lysandre Rogare.”

Aegon’s anger was temporarily replaced by confusion. “Rogare? Why are you using a traitor’s sigil?”

“You mean the reversal of your colors?” Lysandre asked.

“Yes, the reversal of my colors!” Aegon answered, dumbfounded. “The black dragon is the sigil of the Blackfyre traitors!”

“Oh.” Lysandre shrugged. “Well, it’s a simple mistake to make. I was trying to bring honor to the history of the Valyrian Freehold by using something similar to the sigil of House Targaryen. It was the witch’s idea.”

The witch. Aegon had expected that she’d explain the prophecy to him when he went to her the previous night. Instead, she’d only told him that she needed him to do her a favor if she was to help protect his family. Under normal circumstances, he’d have been more than fine with bedding such a beautiful woman…but, as much as the circumstances were abnormal, she might be useful, if she was being honest. Was this some trick of hers? The bright flame and bitter flame must have been the traitors, or whatever group they were with. Aegon still had no idea of who the strong and weak flames were. But, she had said that she was the black flame…maybe that was her way of hinting about this; if it was, it was already bloody obviously something for him to worry about, even if the king disagreed. And she’d roped this idiot into helping her. Aegon couldn’t help but think that, maybe, the weak flame was his father.

“Well, anyway, that mystery’s solved.” Rogare shrugged. “On to my joust.” He started to walk away.

“Wait!” Aegon ordered. “We need to speak about something important!”

“Why, for a relative who I respect so much as you, I’d do anything.” Rogare winked, and then whispered conspiratorially, “Anything includes throwing our joust when it comes. I realize that the crown prince winning is a matter of the most importance, believe me, don’t worry about that.”

Either the man was the master of deceit or the witch was right about the black flame being with him; her Lyseni guard may just have no intention of hurting the Targaryen family, if only because the man didn’t seem like very much of a mastermind.

Aegon returned to where the remaining competitors waited and, switching back to the common language of Westeros, explained everything to Garlan, who refused to listen any further as he made his way to where Daenerys and the rest of the royal family were, shouting that he forfeited.

“If you forfeit, you can’t become champion!” Aegon shouted. “You won’t win the bet!”

“Fuck the tourney! Fuck betting! And fuck the traitors! No one said I would be impriosoned for giving up!” Garlan shouted as he ran to the his betrothed.

Rogare won his joust against Denys Arryn, but then revealed himself anyway, claiming in the Westerosi language, “I was unaware that the black dragon was a symbol of rebellion to Westeros, I joust for the honor of Valyria, the Rogare family, and the Targaryens, who rightfully sit the Iron Throne, and who I pray will continue to rule in King’s Landing, just as the Rogare family should keep control of Lys! I am Lysandre Rogare, and I would die before I harm my Targaryen cousins!”

The last joust of the third round was between Bronze Yohn Royce, who seemed drunk already, and Nestor Royce. Despite being intoxicated, the Bronze Yohn won this one.

“The regions which still have champions are: The Crownlands, Dorne, the Stormlands, and the Vale! The fourth round begins!” A herald announced. “The mystery knight of the red viper, champion of Dorne, against Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone, champion of the Crownlands!”

Once Aegon had gotten onto his horse and was ready, thanks to the help of Alyn Plumm, he rode out onto the lanes, wishing the tourney was over. On the other side of the lanes, the ‘mystery knight’ was prepared as well. Aegon hoped that Uncle Oberyn didn’t hurt him too bad when he beat him.

The horses charged down the line, and Aegon lowered his lance, aiming for the center of his opponent’s shield. Aegon’s lance hit squarely on the shield’s red viper, his opponent being knocked off of his horse.

Once Aegon’s horse reached the end of the lane and stopped, the prince dismounted and walked over to his disguised uncle, offering him a hand. “Thanks, Egg,” Rhaenys’s voice said, from inside the helmet.

“Rhaenys?” Aegon frowned.

“Well, I did make it way too obvious that it was Uncle Oberyn. I even asked him to tell a few whores that he was the mystery knight, just to make everyone feel a little safer in their assumption.” Rhaenys explained, accepting the offered hand and getting to her feet, and then removing her helmet. “I needed our uncle to play the part of the mystery knight off the lanes, while I played the part on the lanes.”

“The mystery knight of the red viper is Princess Rhaenys Targaryen!” A herald shouted for everyone to hear. “The winner is Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just got back into this after a bit of a break. I'd appreciate any advice or criticism or whatever for any chapter. Thanks for anyone who has made it this far.


	23. Chapter 17: Barristan Selmy I

### Chapter 17: Ser Barristan Selmy of the Kingsguard, 6 September 298 AC

Barristan rode out on his horse, ready to knock Ser Samwell Tarly off of his horse. It had been a long time since he’d won a tourney, but today he could already taste victory. It wouldn’t be like the Tourney of Harrenhal; Barristan would win, and he would crown Ashara Dayne as his Queen of Love and Beauty. She would be so happy, he’d get to see her smile and know that he caused it. When he won, he’d know for sure that today wouldn’t be like that day at Harrenhal.

Except…it already was nothing like that day at Harrenhal. Aegon wasn’t Rhaegar; Aegon loved Rhaenys, who he was intended to marry. That was made plain by just being around the two for years; seven hells, it was plain when the two walked off of the lanes, arm in arm. Barristan knew the boy wouldn’t crown anyone else if he won.

And Ashara was married now; what, was he some old fool to think he could proclaim his love for her and then expect it to be some fairy tale? Barristan knew he was too old for that level of childishness, not thinking of the consequences of his actions. Did she even have any feelings for him back at Harrenhal? She had looked to Stark on that fateful day, not to Selmy.

The only similarity was that he was in the kingsguard, and he had as much reason to avoid winning today as he did back at Harrenhal; many more reasons, in fact. He should have never thought of doing anything so foolish as he had planned for today.

He could just lose to Aegon on purpose, that would be the loyal thing to do. The kingsguard thing to do. But…Aegon deserved to have his first victory be because he earned it, not because an old man defeated Savage Samwell Tarly for him.

With his mind made up, Barristan moved his lance slightly. Tarly’s lance struck his breastplate, knocking him to the ground. Thankfully, Barristan remained uninjured and made his way to Prince Aegon as Ser Ronnel Dayne rode out for his joust and a herald declared Ser Ronnel the winner by forfeit.

“You did quite well in the tourney, Ser Barristan.” Rhaenys congratulated, as Barristan reached the princess and her brother. “I’m glad to see you’re unhurt.”  
“The Fireknight does you a disservice,” Aegon told him, “you made it to the fourth round, proving your talent for what must be the millionth time. I’m only thankful that I didn’t have to face the legendary Barristan the Bold.”

Despite himself, Barristan couldn’t resist thinking that Aegon, despite some rumors about the boy, would be a good king for him to guard, once he ascended. “I live to serve, not for glory. That is the way of the kingsguard.” Barristan the Bold told the young Targaryens.

“Ser Barristan, might I make a request?” Aegon asked.

“Anything, Prince Aegon.” Barristan replied, happy for a chance to distract himself from his guilt over his fantasy of crowning Ashara. “What would you have me do? Anything from slaying an enemy of the realm to wiping an arse, I’ll do it with pride.”

“I need you to protect Rhaenys.” The prince said.

Barristan laughed. “I’ve been doing that since the girl was born, Prince Aegon. There is no need to ask me to do something I already do.”

“I’ll be going through the crowd with Nym and Sarella, we’ll be on the lookout for danger throughout the remainder of the jousts.” Rhaenys explained.

“And I’d be really thankful if you could keep my sister safe from any possible danger. You’re one of the handful of warriors I can trust here.” Aegon added. “While I believe she could handle herself, I would feel a bit less worried if she had someone to watch her back.”

“She will not be harmed. You have my word.” Barristan vowed.

As Princess Rhaenys started to walk away, Prince Aegon put a hand on her shoulder. “Be careful,” the prince told her.

“I’m the Fireknight,” Rhaenys informed, giving Aegon a kiss before she continued, “few men in history could slay a dragon, and no man in the known world could slay the Fireknight.” With that, the princess walked into the crowd, with Barristan close behind her.

As Barristan and the princess walked, a herald announced, “With the Bronze Yohn’s defeat by Lysandre Rogare, we move onto the fifth and semi-final round!”

Barristan couldn’t resist some pride in the young prince as Aegon defeated Sam the Savage in the first joust of the fifth round.


	24. Chapter 18: Lysandre Rogare II

### Chapter 18: Lysandre Rogare II, 6 September 298 AC

Lysandre looked ahead, at his current opponent. Ronnel Dayne would be the last man he faced before the finale with Aegon Targaryen, the king-to-be. So long as he defeated this Westerosi man, he was sure to gain Aegon’s friendship and loyalty in the finale by throwing the match. He’d try to make it convincing of course, but Aegon would know that Lysandre had proven his desire to ally with him.

He just had to defeat this man. His father hadn’t told him in so many words, but Lysandre knew that the Magister Rogare had entrusted him with gaining an alliance with the Targaryen heir. This joust would mean either his failure in that quest or his victory. As the horses charged, Lysandre lowered his lance, expecting to knock Dayne off of his horse easily. As Dayne’s lance broke on Lysandre’s shield, Lysandre was thinking about his future as a Magister of Lys, the greatest in history. As Lysandre’s horse was moving forward faster thatn Lysandre’s body, Lysandre was thinking about the wealth he would have as Lys’s magister. As the ground got closer, Lysandre thought of how great his reputation would be.

As he hit the ground, Lysandre was also hit by reality. Shit.

“I…lost?” Lysandre muttered from the ground, quietly enough that no one heard him.

“Ser Ronnel Dayne is the victor!” A herald proclaimed. “The last match of the tourney will begin shortly.”

Lysandre made his way to where Prince Aegon was, ready to apologize for his failure, feeling as low as the bastard he was. The prince was standing with the witch. Lysandre bowed and began speaking swiftly in High Valyrian. “Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone, I have betrayed your trust by losing my joust; because of my failure, you will have to face Ronnel Dayne. I will fully understand should you decide to banish me from your realm.”

“Rogare?” Aegon looked down at Lysandre, and then offered a hand to help him to his feet. “Let me help you up.” Prince Aegon said in the common tongue of Westeros. Did the prince mean to forgive him? To possibly have an alliance with him, despite his failure? Was he using this common language of his savage servants as a way of telling Lysandre that he had no problem with bastards? That he saw Lysandre as being worthy based on their time together so far?

“Pardon, Your Magnificence?” Lysandre said, in the common language.

“Sorry,” the prince of Dragonstone switched to High Valyrian. “I offered to help you to your feet.”

“Thank you.” Lysandre said, overcome with gratitude as he took the offered hand, the prince helping him to his feet. “Magnificent Prince Aegon, for your kindness and nobility, I pledge my life, my sword, and my honor to you.”

The prince nodded slowly. “Alright…actually, the priestess and I wanted you to be here to hear some of this.”

“I’m honored, Your Magnificence.” Lysandre replied.

“Prince Aegon, I’ve seen things in my fires that may worry you. There is danger in your future, danger from the bitter fire, the bright fire, the strong fire, and the weak fire.” The witch told the prince.

“And the black fire?” Aegon asked.

“As I told you,” The witch answered, “you’re the red and I’m the black.”

“Because you practice dark magic?” Aegon guessed.

The witch laughed. Lysandre had the idea to accuse the witch of insulting the prince, but he decided against it. The witch spoke again, “Prince of Dragonstone, the Blackfyre males are extinct. But there is one Blackfyre female left. Me.”  
Faster than even Lysandre could react, the prince’s hand went to the sword at his hip.

“Stay your blade, Prince Aegon.” The witch said calmly. “I am no pretender, nor do I have any intent to start a rebellion. I am a woman of the faith of R’hllor. And I’ve done nothing but warn you of dangers so far and provide you with my own glass candle.”

Aegon released his grip on the blade’s handle, letting it rest in its scabbard. “Is that why you came to Westeros? To give me a candle?”

“To warn you of the dangers that are coming.” The witch said. “I am Baela Blackfyre, and I only seek to protect the red dragons. There is a war coming, King Aegon, and you are the key to it. You have about three years to rest before the time comes, Your Grace. Enjoy yourself as much as you can, marry the Fireknight, the woman you love. Just never forget the events of this Tourney. I can tell you no more, King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lysandre and I have matters to attend to, matters that you’ll thank us for in the future.”

Just as Lysandre was about to say that he served the Prince of Dragonstone instead of a witch, the prince started to say something, and then stopped, closing his mouth. And then he merely said, “Lysandre Rogare, Baela Blackfyre, thank you for your kindness to the House Targaryen. Anything you would have of me, ask it at any time.”

“Someday, we will slay the enemies of peace together.” Lysandre said, trying to sound sagely. “Your assistance in making a utopia will be all the thanks required. Until then, savor the victor you are sure to have today.”

“Then you will have my strength when and where I’m asked to send it.” Aegon said in response.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to everyone who has made it this far, as my first ao3 story nears its end. I had this finished (except that damn difficult epilogue) a couple weeks ago, give or take a few days. I apologize for the break, and will try to get it all wrapped up, edit and submit the last chapters, and start work on the branch-sequel thing.
> 
> And, more individually to this chapter, this chapter was quite fun to write; something about disconnects with reality are interesting to me, in literature.


	25. Chapter 19: Princess Rhaenys Targaryen II

### Chapter 19: Princess Rhaenys Targaryen II, 6 September 298 AC

Though she wanted to watch the final joust of the tourney, Rhaenys knew her duty. She continued searching through the crowds, trying to walk casually, keeping an eye out for anything suspicious.

“For the final joust, Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone, representing the Crownlands,” a herald announced, “will ride against Ser Ronnel Dayne, representing Dorne.”

Rhaenys couldn’t help but make her way to where she could see Egg’s joust. The knights broke their lances against each other on the first tilt, but both men managed to stay on their horses. The second tilt was no different, nor the third. In fact, it was on the ninth tilt that one of them finally was knocked to the ground. Thankfully, the loser of the joust was Ser Ronnel.

Every herald announced Egg’s victory as the champion. He would receive sixty thousand gold dragons in prize money, and was given the the wreath of flowers to crown his Queen of Love and Beauty.

Dismounting his horse, Egg announced proudly, “I crown Princess Rhaenys of House Targaryen as my Queen of Love and Beauty.”

Rhaenys couldn’t help but smile as he crowned her.

“And,” Egg proclaimed to everyone who had gathered to watch the jousts, “I declare my intention to marry Princess Rhaenys upon our return to King’s Landing.”

“Nonsense!” Her father, King Rhaegar, interrupted. “Prince Aegon and Princess Rhaenys will be wed in Harrenhal, where the conclusion of the Tourney of the Crossing is planned to take place. Both melees have been cancelled, as the prophecy will be best filled by having the Tourney of the Crossing have its surprise forthwith. And then, the prince’s first of two weddings will occur.”

All the smiles died with the king’s announcement.

“What do you mean, father?” Egg asked, looking as if he’d been punched in the face.

“First of two weddings?” Rhaenys said, dumbfounded.

“Prince Aegon is one of three heads of the dragon. He will be married to Princess Rhaenys at Harrenhal as soon as possible. His second wedding will in about three years, to Princess Visenya at Dragonstone.” The king explained. “The surprise ending of the tourney will be in seven days, and on that day will be a new Trial of Seven, a trial from the gods to determine Prince Aegon’s worth.”

Despite herself, Rhaenys was somehow surprised. Father had gone off the deep end. If only father would be merciful enough to drink wildfire like the maesters claimed grandfather did.

“Aegon has seven days to gather his six companions. In that time, I will gather the seven challengers of my choice.” The new mad king continued. “I do this for the sake of the realm, for the sake of the world. This is my proof that the realm is more important to me than my own family. Should Aegon lose, he will be disinherited and banished to Essos. Should my son win, he will crown Princess Visenya as his second Queen of Love and Beauty…as a head of the dragon, he is guaranteed to win, of course.”

Rhaenys looked at Aegon. She saw the shock plain on his face. “Egg….”

“Father, you’re insane.” Egg said, wide-eyed.

“If you win, you’ll be pardoned for those words.” Rhaegar proclaimed. “I grant you permission to have three Kingsguard on your side.”

And then, the king walked over to Aegon and whispered something. Something that Rhaenys couldn’t hear, but that made Aegon somehow look even more terrified. “I swear on the gods, old and new, if you ever tell anyone that….” Aegon trailed off.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has made it this far, I really appreciate it.


	26. Chapter 20: Ashara Dayne II

### Chapter 20: Queen Ashara Dayne II, 7 September 298 AC

“A word, Ashara.” Aegon walked through the doorway, shutting it behind him.

“Aegon?” Ashara regarded her step-son. She’d only been reading a book in the room that Lord Erenford had given to her and Rhaegar on the journey to Harrenhal. “You may doubt me, but you have my word that I had no idea that King Rhaegar would do something such as he did yesterday.”

“Visenya and Alysanne are with Sarella Sand and Nymeria Sand.” Aegon said bluntly, a look of pure hate on his face. “So two of Rhaegar’s children are safe and accounted for.”

Ashara blinked a few times, confused. “That’s good to hear, Aegon, truly…but, that’s certainly a strange thing to burst into a queen’s bedroom, unannounced, to say.”

“Valarr and Orys are with Garlan, being read stories. Four of Rhaegar’s children are safe and accounted for.”

What was he getting at? “Aegon, you’re scaring me.” Ashara announced.

“Rhaenys is outside the door with the Hound.” Aegon said, being careful with each syllable. “And I’m right here. I’ve listed all of King Rhaegar Targaryen’s offspring.” Aegon paused, giving Ashara a death stare. “Rhaenys. Aegon. Orys. Visenya. Alysanne. Valarr. All six of Rhaegar’s trueborn children.”

“Aegon, get out of this room immediately and never speak to me in this manner again, or I will scream for one of my guards.” Ashara ordered.

“Go ahead,” Aegon shrugged. “All of your guards have been threatened or ordered to not be here for a few hours. And, as I said, Rhaenys and Sandor are at the door, ready to kill anyone who tries to force their way in. Now, tell me honestly, did I miss any of King Rhaegar’s children in my list.”

Ashara stood up and started slowly backing into the corner. “You forgot Jon in your list. King Rhaegar has seven trueborn children.”

Aegon already had his sword drawn by the time she’s taken her second step.

“It’s treason to bear steel at a queen.” Ashara reminded her step-son. “Sheathe your blade and leave, or else I will inform the king.”

“Try to answer my question again. I listed Rhaenys, myself, Orys, Visenya, Alysanne, and Valarr. Without lying, tell me if I missed any of King Rhaegar’s children on my list.”

“I’m telling you,” Ashara said, her voice getting higher in pitch. “You’re forgetting Jon in your list!”

“I’m taking a finger for every lie you tell me in this room.” Aegon said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world, and as if she was an idiot for not expecting it. “I’ll even make this question simple for you. Is Jon Targaryen the son of Rhaegar Targaryen?”

“No!” Ashara finally admitted. “No, he’s a bastard. I’ve kept it secret for over a decade, but he’s not the son of Rhaegar. Rhaegar knows, Jon’s father knows…but how do you know?!”

“Someone told. Someone always tells.” Aegon replied emotionlessly, sheathing his sword. “The only thing I’m trying to find out is who the father is.”

“The father is Ned Stark.” Ashara confessed, her back against the corner of the room, sliding down so that she sat, crying into her knees. Her son would die soon, all because Aegon found out the secret. She should have had Jon sent away a long time ago, somewhere that he couldn’t be harmed by Aegon or anyone.

“Lord Eddard Stark? The most honorable man in the realm?” Aegon asked.

Ashara only nodded.

With her face hidden against her knees, she didn’t see Aegon leave. She only heard him walk to the door, open it, and then walk away with two other sets of footsteps: one heavy and one light.

Her son would be publicly known as a bastard. Poor, innocent Ned would be executed at worst, sent to the Wall at best. And Ashara would almost definitely be executed. It was one thing when only Rhaegar and Ned knew about Jon’s parentage; but now the whole realm would know, and Rhaegar would be forced to act. Her baby boy would die.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone who has made it this far, to the end of the penultimate penta-chapter-section of my fanfiction. Any advice/criticism is extremely appreciated.


	27. Overview 4: A Dance of Dragons

### Overview 4: From the Dance of Dragons to the First Blackfyre Rebellion, 7 September 298 AC

Long ago, longer than any known man is old enough to remember, the Targaryens did not merely call themselves dragons or drink wildfire to transform; no, there was a time when Targaryens rode dragons, as can be proven by the dragon skulls kept in the Red Keep.

The fifth Targaryen to sit the Iron Throne was King Viserys I Targaryen, who was the final rider of the dragon Balerion, the largest in known history. King Viserys was originally married to Aemma Arryn, who was only able to provide the king with one child, who was known as Princess Rhaenyra ‘the Realm’s Delight’. King Viserys’s second wife, Alicent Hightower, provided the king with more children, including a son named Aegon, who would marry his own sister, Helaena Targaryen. In addition to this, King Viserys had a younger brother, named Daemon ‘the Rogue Prince’, who would go on to marry Rhaenyra.

Rhaenyra’s traitorous actions led to the Dance of Dragons, which could more fittingly be called the Death of Dragons, as this event is known as the cause of the extinction of all dragons. Upon King Viserys’s death, his eldest son, King Aegon II of the golden dragon, who would become the sixth king on the Iron Throne.

King Aegon II, who rode the dragon Sunfyre, became embroiled in a civil war with Rhaenyra Targaryen, who rode the dragon Syrax. King Aegon II would have won this war, as the gods saw his claim as being superior; however, King Aegon II made a very drastic mistake. By feeding his half-sister Rhaenyra to a dragon, he became a kinslayer, leading to the end of his line. With his death and the deaths of his descendants and full-siblings, King Aegon’s successor ended up being the eldest son of the Rogue Prince Daemon. This successor was King Aegon III; whose mother was Rhaenyra.

King Aegon III was the seventh king to sit the Iron Throne. This number, however, did not bring fortune to King Aegon III, who gained the title ‘the Dragonbane’. King Aegon III originally rode the dragon Stormcloud as a child, but this dragon died when he was still young. Not very long after his dragon’s death, Aegon III had to witness his mother Rhaenyra being eaten by the dragon of Aegon II. This led King Aegon III to a deep fear of dragons, and is the reason for the rumor that he poisoned the last of the dragons, leading to their extinction.

King Aegon III had five children. In order of birth, they were Daeron, Baelor, Daena, Rhaena, and Elaena. Upon King Aegon III’s death, the throne passed to the young King Daeron I ‘the Young Dragon’, when the boy was only fourteen, making Daeron the eighth Targaryen king. King Daeron I faced the Dornish in many battles, temporarily controlling the region, but the region remained steadfast in its desire for independence. At age eighteen, King Daeron I was betrayed and lost his life.

With King Daeron’s death, the throne passed to his brother, King Baelor I ‘the Blessed’, the ninth king to sit the Iron Throne. King Baelor the Blessed was the first Targaryen to gain permanent control of Dorne; however, he did not use war to do this. Instead, he showed his piety and trust in the gods by walking across the entirety of Dorne and back. Though it is not confirmed by most historians, there is a rumor that King Baelor said that his piety was due to a vision from the Mother when he was a child, granting him great wisdom with only one phrase. To quote the words Baelor was alleged to say: “The mother said life was like a box of chocolates. You never know what you are going to get.”

Some more popular legends even state that King Baelor was immune to snakes, and that serpents could recognize how holy he was to the point that even the most dangerous viper would bow to him.

Baelor went as far as to keep his three young sisters safe in a Maidenvault instead of allowing them to be at risk of being harmed my men of less virtue than Baelor himself. However, the eldest of the three, Princess Daena the Defiant, bedded her cousin and bore his bastard, refusing to name her cousin, the future King Aegon IV, as the bastard’s father. That bastard would go on to become Daemon Blackfyre, who would bring much death and sorrow to the realm as the black dragon.

When the gods finally received King Baelor I, taking his soul to the heavens, his successor was his father’s younger brother, King Viserys II, the father of King Aegon IV ‘the Unworthy’. King Viserys II was the tenth king to sit the Iron Throne.

After King Viserys II passed away, the throne went to King Aegon IV ‘the Unworthy’ Targaryen, whose actions led to the Blackfyre Rebellions.

-From the Writings of Archmaester Ryam

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far, I really appreciate it. All comments are welcome, especially advice/criticism.


	28. Chapter 21: Gerold Dayne II

### Chapter 21: Gerold Dayne II, 8 September 298 AC

“So, we have until the thirteenth for your trial?” Gerold asked, as he and his friend sat outside of the castle of Lady Keath of the Green Fork.

“Yeah,” Egg answered, looking like he’d just gotten a death sentence. It was such a bore when Egg frowned so much.

Gerold frowned. One word answers were rarely a good sign. “Come now, Egg, you’re being depressing. You’ll have the first Trial of Seven in gods know how long. Cheer up.”

“How am I to cheer up?” Egg questioned. “My soul is weighed by a secret about Jon that even he doesn’t know. My heart is plagued with worry for Rhaenys, should my father still have this idiotic ‘polygamy’ notion in mind when the three years are up. My body may be broken in less than a week, if father picks skilled men to face me at Harrenhal. What part of this should I be cheered about, Darkstar?”

“Huh,” Gerold looked down at the floor. That was a good point, but what did it benefit them for Egg to be such a bitch about it? “I’ll admit that you’re right about the soul thing. I personally don’t see how being double-married is any worse than being single-married, but I’ll go with you being right about the heart bit, because of our friendship. On the body part though, what’s the worst that can happen?”

The oh-so-noble prince narrowed his eyes at Gerold. “Of the two Trials of Seven that I know about, neither ended well. King Maegor Targaryen was the only survivor of his, out of fourteen men.”

“Well, that points in a good direction to your survival,” Gerold tried to help his closest friend. “Maegor was a prince at the time. You’re a prince. I see a definite pattern there.”

“In the one during the rule of King Daeron the Second, Crown Prince Baelor Breakspear was slain, and two or three of his friends died as well.” Why was Egg being so blunt?

“And that points to most of the rest of us surviving.” Gerold nodded. “See, we’re all in the clear. Patterns, Egg, how do they work?”

“Us?” Egg had a look of confusion.

“Egg, you must have hit your head on something. Of course ‘us’.” Gerold clarified. “The whole ‘us’ thing has been a thing for years. You think I’d let you get all the fame from being in a Trial of Seven? No, my name will live on in the list of Trial of Seven survivors alongside yours.”

“You could die.” Egg pointed out.

“Wost case scenario, I get to kill Arthur Dayne and I end up being known as a kinslayer. I assure you that he’ll be one of the opponents your father sets against you.”

“That’s your worst case scenario?” Egg furrowed his brow.

“You may be right, Egg.” Gerold sighed. “The worst case scenario is not for me to kill my cousin Arthur. The worst case scenario is if someone gets Dawn off of Arthur’s corpse before I get a chance to. Let it be known that any man who tries to steal Dawn will be slain by me, I don’t care who he is. Now, we have to get to the matter of selecting your companions. We’re five short, but those should fill up quite quickly. What about the Fireknight?”

“I forbid that.” Egg said abruptly.

“Fine, fine.” Gerold shrugged. “I say we go to Oberyn to get him in on this, though.”

“Uncle Oberyn would never….”

“Are you even listening to yourself? The man’s done a million more dangerous things. He’s even threatened me, and that’s more dangerous than facing a thousand of Arthur Dayne.” Gerold laughed.

Within an hour, they’d found Oberyn reading a book on poisons nearby. “Egg, Darkstar.” The Red Viper greeted. “I was hoping to ask you for a favor, Egg.”

“Oh? I intended the same,” Egg told his uncle.

The Red Viper closed his book. “There’s a rumor going around that King Rhaegar will be on the other side of the Trial of Seven.”

“Father? I’d say even he is not so insane, but I have no idea what to believe about him of late.” Egg seemed even more down.

“Yes,” the Red Viper nodded. “Therefore, I have a favor to request of you. I want to fight him in your trial. How many men are on your side so far?”

“Well, counting you…” Aegon confessed, “…two. Counting myself, three.”

“Wonderful,” Oberyn grinned. “Then you do have room for me on your side!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for making it this far, I'd appreciate any comments, especially criticism or advice.


	29. Chapter 22: Gerold Hightower I

### Chapter 22: Lord Commander Gerold Hightower I, 10 September 298 AC

“Your Grace, it’s not too late to unmake your decision,” Hightower told King Rhaegar. Even at age seventy-seven, Lord Commander Gerold Hightower believed he could protect the king from anything; but apparently he couldn’t protect Rhaegar from his own foolishness; a pattern that Gerold had noticed when he served Aerys.

Originally, Hightower had been left in King’s Landing, but a letter several days ago instructed him to meet the king at Harrenhal. Hightower’s heart sank when he learned that his duty was to fight in a Trial of Seven against Prince Aegon.

“No, Lord Commander,” the king replied, “the prophecy is best fulfilled by having a test first. If Prince Aegon is the Prince that was Promised, he will survive this, without a doubt. I made my initial mistake with Lyanna Stark, but I have to be sure of it this time; you are a wise man, with many years, so I trust that you understand your place in this. That’s why you will be one of the seven men fighting against Aegon and his companions.”

“A member of the kingsguard is not allowed to strike a prince of the blood, Your Grace.” The Lord Commander pointed out, thankful for this rule, now more than ever. This ‘trial’ was a mockery of the Faith of the Seven. It was a mockery of the gods and the high tower itself.

“Arthur mentioned a similar issue when I ordered him to be one of the challengers against Aegon, as did Jonothor.” Rhaegar admitted, with a momentary look of uncertainty.

“So you must see the folly of this, my king.” Lord Commander Gerold allowed himself to smile, hoping that three of the white cloaks in a row, all giving the same reasoning, could persuade the king out of this mistake. “Prince Aegon may be of Dornish blood, but most of your subjects will forgive this lapse in judgement, mayhaps you should blame it on illness, and say that you will never falter in your decisions such as this again?” He offered. “It could be said that you’ve been taking more milk of the poppy than recommended, for recent headaches? 

“Nonsense, Lord Commander; you are not the blood of the dragon, so I cannot expect you to fully understand, I suppose. But, in light of your loyalty for many decades, I forgive you for doubting me.” King Rhaegar replied; it seemed that the uncertainty had passed, unfortunately. “Besides, there will be six other men with my son, all you have to do is go after one of the others. According to rumors, Aegon will have Ser Oberyn and Ser Gerold fighting with him; Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Barristan Selmy will be with him as well. Those are four men that you can fight without worry of dishonor.”

“Ser Gerold Dayne will be on the prince’s side?” Gerold Hightower asked. “Surely you could not ask Ser Arthur to face his own cousin; the two men share a grandparent. I can’t imagine you would ask the Sword of the Morning to risk becoming a kinslayer.”

“You’re not being logical,” said the king who had abandoned all logic, “Ser Arthur will easily have five opponents he can go against; only one of my sons will be in the trial and only one of his kinsmen will be in the trial.”

Hightower lowered his head. “Fine, Your Grace. Who will be on the side of the challengers?”

“Your six companions serving as Aegon’s accusers are my brother Viserys; Ser Moribald Chester; my good friend Richard Lonmouth; Sers Arthur and Jonothor of the kingsguard; and, lastly, myself.” Rhaegar answered, seeming proud as he added himself to the list.

“Accusing the prince of what?” Gerold Hightower asked.

“Of not being the Prince that was Promised,” Rhaegar answered simply.

“And you mean to act as your own son’s accuser? If he is slain, even if not by your own blade, you will be known as a kinslayer throughout the realm.”

“Duty over honor, White Bull.” Rhaegar looked upwards, as if receiving some divine message from the gods. “I must value the sons of the entire realm over my own sons, or else I am no king. But, as king, I am also entitled to some rest, before this ordeal reaches a head. Ser Garlan Tyrell requested permission to hold the wedding with my sister today. No doubt he plans to announce his intention to join Aegon in his trial, as well. Come, let us both enjoy the celebration while it lasts.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Three chapters in one day! Almost makes up for all the breaks...wait, no, it doesn't make up for that....
> 
> Anywho, thanks for making it this far. As always, all comments are appreciated.


	30. Chapter 23: Jon Targaryen IV

### Chapter 23: Prince Jon Targaryen IV, 12 September 298 AC

Jon had spent the past couple of hours waiting outside of the Tower of Ghosts of Harrenhal; despite it being the most ruined of the towers, Egg and several hundred others had taken up residency inside while they waited for Egg’s trial. Meanwhile, Jon’s father, King Rhaegar, had chosen to reside in Kingspyre Tower with his servants and guards.

It seemed as though the royal family was split. Outside of Kingspyre Tower were hung the three-headed red dragon on black. However, Kingspyre Tower was connected via a stone bridge to the Widow’s Tower, which flew the banners of the king highest, but with the purple lightning on black of House Dondarrion and the golden lion on red of House Lannister. Lords Paramount Tyrion Lannister and Beric Dondarrion had announced their loyalty to the king, come what may; Jon had heard a guard mention that Dondarrion owed his entire position to King Rhaegar, while Lannister owed the crown for some debt. So, father had the Stormlands and Westerlands.

Outside of the Tower of Ghosts was Egg’s new banner, which had been unveiled at the wedding of Garlan and Dany: A quartered sigil, with the top left and bottom right showing the red three-headed dragon on black of House Targaryen, to signify Egg’s own blood of the dragon; to the top right were the sun and spear of House Martell, for Egg’s alliance with House Martell, who Oberyn Martell had announced would be on Egg’s side no matter what came; and, to the bottom left was the golden rose on green of House Tyrell, as Lord Willas and Ser Garlan Tyrell were the first outside of the Dornish to declare their loyalty to Egg. This left Egg with the Reach and Dorne supporting him.

Jon had hoped to show his support for his brother, but Egg had sent Ser Sandor Clegane with a message a few days earlier, requesting that Jon stay in Kingspyre Tower. Jon had asked why, but Ser Sandor had claimed that it was probably because Egg was sure that none of his people would harm Jon if he was in Kingspyre Tower, but Jon was at risk from the forces of the king if he was seen as a traitor by staying in the Tower of Ghosts. Ser Sandor had left Jon with the promise that Egg would come find him once he’d finished an important duty. Jon assumed that this duty was surviving the trial.

As this was the last day before the trial, Jon had hoped to see Egg before his life was at risk. He’d been hopeful that he would be able to catch his brother entering or leaving the Tower of Ghosts, but so far he’d had no luck.

“I doubt he’ll want to speak with you anytime soon,” the voice of his father, King Rhaegar Targaryen, informed.

“Father?” Jon turned around, to see the king, alone. Usually father had at least a couple of guards with him, except for on his trips to Summerhall. Why would he be alone here, so close to the tower?

“No,” the king shook his head, “I fear it is past time for you to learn the truth. I originally told Aegon of this only to make him angry enough to fight with the fire of a dragon tomorrow…but, I have decided that in telling him, I have only caused you worry, as he seems to be avoiding you.”

“Pardon?” What was father getting at here?

“Have you never wondered why you, alone, out of all of my sons, look so unlike me?” Jon’s father asked.

“Rhaenys looks Dornish,” Jon corrected, more than slightly nervous.

“Rhaenys is not my son, she is my daughter; and she looks like her mother. Unlike you.” Rhaegar replied. “Take your hair, for example. All of Queen Ashara’s children have some of the Valyrian silver-white in their hair, except you.”

“I inherited mother’s hair.” Jon said defensively, getting a little scared. “It’s not so strange. What’s weird about a son inheriting his mother’s hair color? Robb Stark has his mother’s hair color.”

“Do you really believe that your hair is anything like your mother’s? Her hair is black, not a ‘very dark brown’ as she’s told you.” Rhaegar explained. “Your eyes are the grey of a direwolf, not the purple of a dragon.”

“My eyes are just a very strange shade of purple. Mother said so.”

“You have the grey eyes of Lord Eddard Stark. He bedded your mother and I forgave the act of treason, on the condition that Lord Stark swear a vow of permanent allegiance to the crown. Otherwise, you would be revealed to the realm as a bastard. Normally, I would not have been so lenient, but with such danger around every corner, I thought it best to keep the North happy. Apparently, Aegon went to my wife about the issue once I informed him that you were born out of wedlock, and he found out the identity of your father, one of the men he hates most in the world.” Father explained calmly. “I would advise you to avoid him as much as he avoids you, however. With the blood of the dragon, his anger upon seeing you may drive him to murder. It wouldn’t be kinslaying, after all.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I try not to do edits once it's submitted, but I figured I forgot the note, so changing "wolf" to "direwolf" seemed fair enough, while I was here.
> 
> As I try to remember to always say, thanks for everyone who has taken the time to read this. I really appreciate it, and criticism/advice is/are always welcome.


	31. Chapter 24: Garlan Tyrell I

### Chapter 24: Ser Garlan Tyrell I, 13 September 298 AC

On the far side of the field, there stood the seven men challenging Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone. Surprisingly, the king had decided to fight against the side of his own son; it was a blemish of dishonor on a man with thousands of such blemishes. With King Rhaegar was Prince Viserys Targaryen; it wasn’t surprising that he’d sided with Rhaegar, as he and Aegon had never gotten along. That side also boasted of having three kingsguard members: Lord Commander Gerold Hightower, the famous White Bull, a man with the strength of ten men; Ser Arthur Dayne, the most skilled swordsman in the realm, with the legendary sword Dawn; and Ser Jonothor Darry, the man who King Rhaegar had ridden into battle with during Robert’s Rebellion. The two less famous men on King Rhaegar’s side were the drunkard Richard Lonmouth and Ser Moribald Chester.

Meanwhile, Garlan was on this side, with Egg. Egg was leaning against the side of the fence that kept the crowd divided from the fighters, an unworried grin on his face. Practically mirroring Egg’s carefree attitude was Prince Oberyn Martell, who was spinning his spear in front of the crowd, gaining cheers from them. Darkstar was eyeing his cousin Arthur’s sword Dawn, a look of hunger in his eyes. The Hound was drinking ale. Their two kingsguard allies, Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Barristan Selmy, were looking up at the clouds, a look of tiredness on the faces of both old men; Ser Oswell was nearing sixty, while Ser Barristan was already past that milestone.

Fitting for a day that would doubtlessly bring much mourning to the realm, regardless of who won, it was raining. Garlan wished he had the confidence that his friends had.

King Rhaegar walked out into the middle of the field. “For the first time in nearly one hundred years, we have a Trial of Seven. Prince Aegon of Dragonstone stands accused by King Rhaegar Targaryen, accused of being a danger to the realm. Should my son be found guilty, it will be a sign from the gods that he will not serve as a good king to the realm. Should he be found innocent, it will be proof that he will be the greatest king since Aegon the Conqueror and bring about a utopian age for Westeros; no, for the world!”

Egg laughed his best fake laugh, making himself loud enough to be heard as his father spoke. “And merlings will rise from the ground and feed us milk and honey!”

“And the Children of the Forest will turn out to be alive!” The Red Viper chipped in.

Garlan kept a straight face, as did Ser Barristan. But, Darkstar and the Hound seemed to join in the mockery of King Rhaegar’s words.

“The prince is right in his laughter, Your Grace! This is a mummer’s farce!” Ser Oswell called out. “Though I fear the matter is more deadly for my sworn brothers and I. As old as Ser Barristan and I are, the Lord Commander could fall over at any moment.”

The king continued. “When the star bleeds red, the Prince that was Promised will be born amidst smoke and salt, and this will usher in the new age of dragons. The battle will begin as soon as the fire has been lit.”

Fire being lit? Garlan doubted that any fire would stay lit as the rain covered the ground.

As if in answer to his confusion, several servants entered the field, carrying jars. As half of them emptied their jars onto one spot in the center of the field, the green liquid inside gathered on the ground. The rest emptied their jars, filled with something white, around the field. A last servant came with a torch and threw it into the green liquid, bringing a strong green flame to life.

“Observe!” The king exclaimed. “The wildfire burns and the salt is spread. Now,” King Rhaegar unsheathed his sword. “Let the trial begin!”

“Well,” Aegon said to his companions, unsheathing his sword. “I suppose it’s time for someone to die.”

Aegon ran out onto the field, with Garlan and the rest joining him.

Within minutes, the battle was decidedly in the king’s favor. The Red Viper was narrowly avoiding each attack from the Sword of the Morning, as Arthur Dayne’s sword Dawn had destroyed Oberyn’s spear, breaking it in two. As those two were fighting, Darkstar was running to help Egg, who’s face was in the mud; Lord Commander Hightower was holding Egg down as he struggled. Prince Viserys had already been defeated by Darkstar barely a minute before, a deep wound cut into one of his legs. Ser Jonothor of the kingsguard was clashing swords with the Hound, while Richard Lonmouth seemed to be losing against Ser Oswell Whent. And Barristan the Bold had Ser Moribald Chester barely defending himself from each savage slash.

Egg seemed to have stopped struggling; the king was running towards Darkstar, most likely to stop him from saving the crown prince. Garlan charged for the king, his sword raised. He would put an end to this farce. He would end it for Egg, for the Seven, and mostly for Princess Daenerys. A civil war would bring nothing but pain to the Targaryens, Rhaegar should have realized this. For Rhaegar’s own sake, Garlan would become a kingslayer; he’d slay the king and then help Darkstar to save Egg. No doubt most of Rhaegar’s companions were good men, their king’s death would allow them to do what was right and surrender. “It’s past time for you to die, Your Grace.” He shouted. “For King Aegon!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Admittedly, Ser Garlan the Gallant is my favorite. He deserves every possible chance to shine.
> 
> Thanks to everyone that made it this far, any criticism will be appreciated, and any advice will be appreciated.


	32. Chapter 25: Aegon Targaryen V

### Chapter 25: Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone V, 13 September 298 AC

“Let the trial begin!” Father shouted; with four words, he’d damned a lot of good men and Viserys to very likely die or be maimed.

But, dammit, he was born to lead. Even if he would never be king, even if he would die here and now, he would die like a king. As hard as it would be, he wanted to be brave and die like a king would. If he was being honest, he’d admit that he was clenching his arse to keep from shitting himself. He’d been in battles before, but he was facing absolute legends today.

For the sake of the men who were willing to die for him today, for the six who had agreed to fight to the death for his sake, he would have to be brave. Laughing at his father earlier had been difficult, but his uncle had always told him that if he pretended to be brave, he could fake it until he made it true.

“Well,” Aegon said, as he looked at his six companions, keeping a smile on his face.

His uncle, Oberyn Martell, the man who had raised him, seemed fearless as ever. Aegon hoped that he’d not shown any of his fear so far today; he wanted to make him proud.

His closest friend, Gerold Dayne, had his eyes on Dawn, ready to take it off his cousin’s corpse, most likely. Aegon envied his focus. Aegon had felt ready to shit himself ever since they’d gathered. Why couldn’t he be as brave as Gerold? Neither Aegon nor Gerold would survive the day, he feared. Gerold always was too sadistic in battle for his own good.

The beacon of chivalry and the man who’d always had time when he needed help, Garlan Tyrell, seemed ready for battle. Aegon wished he had the man’s bravery and self-assuredness. Garlan seemed like the ideal paramount knight, as always. He would be a great husband for Dany; though Aegon doubted he’d be alive to ever celebrate anything with the two ever again. Garlan was probably just thinking about what he would do after the battle. Regardless of the outcome, Garlan was the greatest fighter against multiple opponents that Aegon had ever met, other than Oberyn and the kingsguard, and Garlan stood the best chance of surviving.

The strongest and kindest man he’d ever met, Sandor Clegane, was drinking, seemingly unworried by the upcoming battle. No doubt he stood a good chance of living. Sandor was practically a monster in raw strength.

Oswell Whent and Barristan Selmy, the kingsguard members who had worn their white cloaks with honor since before Aegon was born. No one could doubt that they would survive this battle, as they had survived a hundred others.

Aegon himself, though, could only think of how he was ready to shit himself. He wasn’t facing some bandit or wildling. He wasn’t facing some common brigand or mercenary. He was facing the king, the Sword of the Morning, the White Bull, etcetera. He wasn’t ready to die. He wanted to run away, to piss himself, to give up and accept whatever punishment his father had in store. He would be the death of some of the best people in Westeros, and he knew it.

But, no, he was the prince of Dragonstone. He was a dragon, and he would be brave, like the dragons before him. Aegon the Conqueror, Aemon the Dragonknight, Maegor the Cruel, Daeron the Young Dragon, Maekar the Anvil…Aegon would not turn craven. None of his allies were afraid, so he had to try his best to keep smiling and be brave with them.

He unsheathed his sword. It was no Blackfyre, and it was no Dark Sister; he had neither of the Targaryen swords of Valyrian Steel that had been lost so long ago. But this sword would have to do. “I suppose it’s time for someone to die.”

With his allies behind him, Aegon charged into battle. The next couple of minutes felt like a blur.

He felt like he’d been tackled by the Titan of Braavos. His face was in the mud. It tasted horrible. “Stay down, Prince Aegon.” Lord Commander Hightower’s voice whispered.

Aegon struggled to get out of the White Bull’s hold.

“No, my prince, stay down. I refuse allow you to be harmed. Only my sworn brothers of the kingsguard will be left once your allies defeat your father’s side, and we three will forfeit once the king falls. You have my word. I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you better.”

Aegon felt his vision start to go from the brown of the mud into black, and his struggling got weaker. He wondered if Hightower knew that he was passing out. Mayhaps that would make Hightower’s duty easier.

“It’s past time for you to die, Your Grace! For King Aegon!” Was that Garlan? Gods, Garlan couldn’t mean going against father…even in this circumstance, slaying the king would ruin his life and reputation, perhaps even his marriage.

Summoning all of his strength, Aegon pushed Hightower enough that he could turn his own head; he saw Garlan charging at father. He saw Garlan swinging his sword down savagely at the king. He saw King Rhaegar parry the blow and then stab his own sword into the stomach of Ser Garlan the Gallant of House Tyrell.

Muffled by the mud in his mouth, Aegon screamed, “Garlan!”

Dropping his sword as he was stabbed, both of Garlan’s hands shot forward, grabbing the king’s throat. King Rhaegar fell to the ground, with Garlan the Gallant falling on top of him, his hands still choking the king. Spitting blood onto Aegon’s father’s face, Garlan shouted, “The trial is over! King Rhaegar is….” Garlan went silent.

“Garlan!” Aegon screamed again, as Hightower was forced off of him by Darkstar, somehow.

“The trial is over! You heard him! Do any of you on the losing side still hold your accusations?” Darkstar was yelling.

“I yield.” The Lord Commander said, on his back in the mud.

“I yield.” Echoed Arthur Dayne, part of Oberyn’s spear lodged in his side.

“I yield.” Echoed Jonothor Darry, his hands on his stomach.

“I yield.” Finished Ser Moribald Chester, a gash in his arm.

“Then the victory goes to Prince Aegon of House Targaryen!” Darkstar shouted to the crowd, dragging Aegon out of the mud. More quietly, he said to Aegon, “Come on, Egg, you’ve tasted enough mud for today.”

As Aegon was dragged away, he couldn’t get his eyes off of Garlan, who hadn’t moved off of the ground yet. “Garlan!” Aegon struggled away from Darkstar, trying to run towards Garlan. It didn’t take him long to realize that one of his legs was probably broken.

“What did I just say about tasting enough mud, you inbred idiot? I’m not letting you stay in Harrenhal a moment more than it takes to drag you out.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp, that's a chapter. Advice and criticism are appreciated.


	33. Overview 5: Aegon the Conqueror

### Overview 5: From Aegon the Conqueror to the Dance of Dragons, 13 September 298 AC

As we all know the story of King Aegon the Conqueror, I will not be recording his life’s events. Instead, I will only be giving the details that link us to the Dance of Dragons. King Aegon I rode the largest dragon in history, Balerion the Black Dread. His sister-wives, Rhaenys and Visenya, rode Meraxes and Vhagar, respectively. By Rhaenys, Aegon’s firstborn son was King Aenys Targaryen. By Visenya, Aegon’s only other child was his second son, Maegor Targaryen. Aegon was the first king to sit the Iron Throne, as he used his dragon to create it.

After Aegon’s death, the throne was passed to his eldest son Aenys, who was the second Targaryen to sit the Iron Throne. Aenys was known for being weak and indecisive. Aenys banished his brother Maegor to Pentos, for the crime of polygamy.

While in Pentos, Maegor had a third marriage. After Aenys’s death, Maegor returned to Westeros to take the Iron Throne from the rightful heir, his nephew. Maegor became the third king to sit the Iron Throne. He died from the Iron Throne, which, thanks to the gods, killed the cruel king.

After Maegor’s death, Aenys’s third son, King Jaehaerys the Conciliator, took the Iron Throne as the fourth king. King Jaehaerys was a blessing to the realm, bringing peace and prosperity. He was taken to the gods at a very old age, being followed by his grandson, King Viserys I, whose eldest son and eldest daughter were the cause of the Dance of Dragons…or the Death of Dragons, as it should be called.

-From the writings of Archmaester Erreck

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank R'hllor, it's the last overview. These were kinda fun early on, but I'm hoping to have some more interesting type of interlude in my future stories. Any recommendations for what I should try out as an interlude in the future?
> 
> Also, criticism and advice are still welcome, and I would really appreciate them.


	34. Chapter 26: Aegon Targaryen VI

### Chapter 26: Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone VI, 14 September 298 AC

Aegon was in a bed in some tower in Harrenhal. May this place be damned. They’d given him milk of the poppy; apparently he’d broken something, though damned if he remembered anything after the most gallant knight in Westeros tried to kill the new mad king. Maesters be damned. Father was in another bed in the same room. Father be damned.

The maester was saying something. Aegon tried to listen. “…unable to save a few of them, Prince Aegon, but there are limits to how much we’re able to heal.”

Aegon tried to focus. Focus…like Darkstar. He managed to ask, “Is Gerold of House Dayne alive.”

“Why, yes,” the maester answered, “he was one of the lucky few winners to come out of it in good health.”

Thank the gods…hopefully Garlan had made it as well. “Garlan Tyrell?”

“He’s dead, I’m afraid…he’d lost too much blood.”

Gods be damned! “Sandor Clegane? Oberyn Martell?”

“Ser Sandor had a horrible injury to his jaw…he may not be able to communicate very easily, but he is likely to live. But, your uncle…his head was removed by Ser Arthur Dayne.”

Aegon came to the conclusion that he would remove Arthur’s head and gift Dawn to Darkstar.

“Speaking of Ser Arthur, he succumbed to some poison from Ser Oberyn’s spear last night.”

And now the gods mocked him by taking away his chance at revenge. Great. “Ser Oswell Whent? Ser Barristan Selmy?”

“Both knights are fine, Prince Aegon. Other than the broken leg, most of your injuries aren’t too bad, since we got to them so fast; the White Bull landing on you did a lot of damage; it’d be a completely different ending for you if not for my training in the Citadel. And your father is likely to make a full recovery as well, he merely sleeps.” The maester added.

His father should have died on that field. Garlan should have been able to have his revenge for the trouble the king had caused.

“In fact, out of the men you faced, only Richard Lonmouth, Ser Arthur Dayne, and Ser Jonothor Darry have died. Ser Richard died in battle against Ser Oswell and Ser Jonothor succumbed to injuries from Ser Sandor last night, mere hours after Ser Arthur’s death.”

Aegon was too tired to ask anything else. Until he saw that his father was waking up. “Maester, as Prince of Dragonstone, I order you to leave my father and I to speak for a few minutes.”

The maester was out of the door in moments.

“Father,” Aegon addressed the king, hate in voice. “Your sham of a trial is over. I’ll be a great king, according to your made-up prophecy. So, tell me, why are you still breathing?”

Rhaegar looked over at his son. “Someone needs to make sure that you fulfill your duty. You must marry the other heads of the dragon, foolish boy. Anything else would mean disaster for the realm.”

“No one can force a man into an illegal polygamous marriage, not even a king.” Aegon replied simply.

“Then the realm is lucky that I’m as wise as Jaehaerys the Conciliator and as strong as Maekar the Anvil.” Rhaegar said with that idiot’s pride of his. “If I should die before your second marriage, I have people in high positions ready to proclaim you a kinslayer. People prepared to name Jon a bastard. Which I’ve informed him that he is.”

“Even you aren’t that cold-hearted, Rhaegar.” Aegon practically spat the name out. “You wouldn’t hurt my brother in this way.”

“He’s not your brother, no more than he is my son.” Rhaegar replied. “I told him not very long ago. But, he may continue to bear my name so long as you remain loyal. But, any harm to me could mean the death of any of your siblings. So, I would advise you watch your threats and keep them silent.”

Aegon tried to swallow his anger. “King Rhaegar, what does Westeros look like, in your eyes?”

Rhaegar seemed dumbstruck. “What?”

“That’s not an answer. What does Westeros look like?” Aegon repeated.

“What? You’re not making any sense, son. You’ve probably had too much milk of the poppy.”

“Tell me, does Westeros look like a whore from Winterfell? Does Westeros look like that concubine Lyanna Stark to you?”

“What? No, it’s been years since I’ve even thought of her.”

“Then why’d you fuck Westeros like you fucked Lyanna Stark?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too far from the end now. Thank you, to everyone who has made it this far. And, yes, I did watch some Pulp Fiction today.
> 
> Recommendations on new types of interludes are appreciated. As are criticism and advice.
> 
> Figure I'll start answering now. If I start a sequel, I plan for it to follow around the area of one character or set of characters. Is there any specific character or family or region that anyone would recommend for me to start with? I'm still working out the three-part epilogue for this, but I have a good idea of what fate will meet most of the characters that I'm interested in.


	35. Chapter 26: Jon Snow V

### Chapter 27: Jon Waters/Snow/Sand V, 15 September 298 AC

Jon Snow. Jon Sand. Jon Waters. Jon wondered which bastard name he would have.

“You’re hard to find, kid.”

Jon looked up. It was Aegon. “Yeah.”

“So, father told you the news?” Aegon asked.

“What news? That I’m of the North?” Jon looked back down at his feet as he sat in the dirt.

“So, because your mum shared a bed with some hypocrite from Winterfell, you think you’re a Stark?” Aegon asked, sitting down next to Jon.

“A Snow. I’m a bastard, not a Stark.” Jon corrected. Maybe that name would fit. Jon Snow.

Aegon turned his head to look at Jon. “No, the name doesn’t fit you. You may look a lot like Stark, now that I think of it, but you’re not of the North. Pick something other than Snow, I’d say.”

Jon Sand. Jon Waters. At least this narrowed down his choices. “Sand or Waters?”

“What are you, a beach?” Aegon laughed.

“I don’t look very Dornish. So I can’t be Sand.” Jon said.

“Well, you can pull a Daemon Blackfyre and be a Waters. Maybe I’ll even find a Valyrian Sword for you to name yourself after later on, little brother. I suppose that makes Rhaenys both my Bloodraven and my Dornish queen.”

“I’m not your little brother.” Jon clarified.

Aegon ruffled up Jon’s hair. “I’ll try not to be offended by you saying that. Father decided that I’ll be marrying Rhaenys on the Isle of Faces in a few hours, but afterwards I’m heading straight for Dragonstone with whoever wants to join me. Plumm is being sent back back home, so I could use a new squire. After some rest in Dragonstone, I think I might go on a nice long vacation. Perhaps by the time I return, father will come to his senses and call off my second wedding. He has three years; no one can stay so crazy for that long.”

Jon Waters or Jon Sand. “Perhaps instead of being like Daemon, I could just do something like the Longwaters line. I could make something up.”

“Such as?” Aegon stood back up.

“Not sure yet. It’ll come to me.” Jon smiled. “Longsand?”

“Sounds unoriginal. Give it time, little brother. And get some rest, it’s been a crazy two weeks.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, and the epilogue that I still haven't completely finished is fast approaching.
> 
> To those of you who made it this far: Thanks!
> 
> To those of you who skipped to this exact chapter because you love Jon Snow: Sorry to disappoint you, all you got is this kid.
> 
> As always, I appreciate any and all criticism/advice. I'm still looking for an idea for new interludes for upcoming fanfictions, so any recommendations would be appreciated. In addition, if there's any character I should mainly follow in the next story set in this timeline, I'd appreciate an idea of which to go with first. I'm planning on having at least two seperate stories taking place at the same time, with different characters leading each story.
> 
> Now that I think of it, does anyone have something they'd like for Jon to take as his new name, now that he knows he has a sore lack of dragon blood?


	36. Chapter 28: Ser Gerold Dayne III

### Chapter 28: Ser Gerold Dayne III, 21 September 298 AC

Ser Gerold ‘the Sword of the Morning’ of House Dayne. It didn’t quite have the feeling to it that Gerold had been expecting for so many years. It’s not like he expected the gods to show up once he had Dawn, but…this was just underwhelming.

“Hey, Egg, what do you think of ‘the Sword of the Night’ for me?” Gerold asked, as his friend sat comfortably in a chair in Aegon’s Garden, the garden of the first Aegon, the conqueror.

“What, would you announce yourself as being ‘of the night’?” Egg asked. “Evening sounds much better, if you’re trying to go for that kind of thing. ‘Of the night’ sounds so…bland and overused, I’d say.”

Ser Gerold ‘the Sword of the Evening’. Egg had a point. Though, Darkstar would be the name he preferred. He was more used to it.

Ever since they’d arrived at Dragonstone, Egg had been busy, so the prince deserved to relax today. Most of his council would handle the work for today; Rhaenys would lead the council while her new husband rested, apparently.

Egg had created his council as soon as he arrived at Dragonstone, with Rhaenys to help him make the list. Surprisingly, the Fireknight had not put herself forward as Castellan or master of laws; unsurprisingly, she did convince her brother to select her as his master of whispers, though that probably didn’t take much convincing at all.

As the castellan of Dragonstone, Egg and the Fireknight had chosen Aurane Waters, the bastard brother of Lord Monford Velaryon. The man had a good reputation, so it was understandable. Though he did always seem so pirate-y to Gerold; which, to be fair, only made the bastard of Driftmark seem more attractive to Gerold.

As his Master of Laws, Lord Monford Velaryon was chosen. Rhaenys seemed very enthusiastic about putting the lord of Driftmark in that high of a position. Normally, it wouldn’t be smart to give one house so much power on the council, but Velaryons did have great reputations for loyalty to Targaryens.

As his Master of Coin, Lord Ardrian Celtigar was chosen; it would be hard to find a non-royal with as much gold as Lord Ardrian in Westeros. Especially when you saw how small the Celtigar’s little island was.

With the Hound’s jaw injury, Gerold himself had been made the Master of Arms, which the Darkstar was absolutely fine with.

Of course, Egg had decided that, if his father would have elite bodyguards, Dragonstone might as well have a few as well. He’d formed the Dragonguard, because apparently he was unoriginal; his rule was that, once he was king, the Dragonguard members who weren’t in white cloaks would be appointed to the kingsguard each time a member of the kingsguard needed to be replaced, should they desire a life of celibacy for whatever reason. Three of the surviving five Kingsguard had come to Dragonstone and been appointed to this elite guard: Ser Oswell Whent, Ser Barristan Selmy, and Ser Bonifer Hasty. As Lord Commander of the white cloaks, Gerold Hightower had been given the position of absent Lord Commander of the Dragonguard, though he stayed in King’s Landing. The other three members were Gerold Dayne himself, the Hound, and some Essosi sellsword named Daario Naharis. Apparently the Essosi had been delivering a message from some woman named Baela; she was probably some woman that Egg had bedded, no real mystery there.

Just as the kingsguard had been divided, so had Egg’s family. While Orys remained in King’s Landing with the king, Jon had come to Dragonstone as Aegon’s squire. Rhaegar had been against Jon doing this and revealed that the boy was a bastard of Ned Stark out of anger, for all the realm to know. Jon had taken it in stride, thankfully. He’d said that he had no reason to feel bad about not being the son of a mad king. Now he went by the name ‘Sand’, but would probably take a more unique name when he thought of a good one. Visenya and Alysanne had joined their brother on Dragonstone, but their mother Ashara and the youngest boy, Valarr, remained in King’s Landing.

The death of Oberyn had hit Egg hard over the past few days, though he tried to hide it. Meanwhile, Dany spent all of her time alone, exploring the passageways of Dragonstone. It turned out that Garlan had impregnated her prior to his death; the poor widow was about a month late. No one really had much reason to bother her, so they allowed her to mourn for her late husband, the dead father of her unborn child, in private.

Gerold couldn’t help but miss Garlan, either.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, and the epilogue that I still haven't completely finished is fast approaching.
> 
> To those of you who made it this far: Thanks!
> 
> As always, I appreciate any and all criticism/advice. I'm still looking for an idea for new interludes for upcoming fanfictions, so any recommendations would be appreciated. In addition, if there's any character I should mainly follow in the next story set in this timeline, I'd appreciate an idea of which to go with first. I'm planning on having at least two seperate stories taking place at the same time, with different characters leading each story.
> 
> Now that I think of it, does anyone have something they'd like for Jon to take as his new name, now that he knows he has a sore lack of dragon blood?


	37. Chapter 29: Daenerys Targaryen II

### Chapter 29: Princess Daenerys Targaryen II, 29 September 298 AC

Her tears had run dry several days ago. Before the Crossing, she had been a Targaryen princess, set to marry the younger brother of Lord Paramount Willas Tyrell. Now, she was the widow of the most gallant attempted-kingslayer in history; not quite the best form of widowhood for a member of the royal line. Normally, she would have expected to remarry; probably to a favored vassal of her elder brother, if she remained in his court.

Although, she did have some choices. She could have accepted Garlan’s brother’s offer of letting her come to his court, to be allowed to choose not to remarry. If she’d gone his way, she would have more freedom than staying in King’s Landing, of course. She could have explored the gardens of Highgarden, and could have had singers and poets praising the memory of Ser Garlan the Gallant; of course, this would be good for Willas’s family’s reputation, having a wife so in love with her gallant Tyrell husband, the late Ser Garlan the Gallant. Gallant, gallant, gallant! May the gods and men alike be damned for how many times she’d heard that word repeated from her late husband’s friends after his death. ‘Garlan was so gallant’, ‘Garlan was so heroic’, ‘Garlan’s shit smelled like a rose’! She loved her husband dearly, yes, but she was at the point that his nickname-title thing was just a migraine to hear.

She’d received a letter from Viserys, naturally, offering to house her in Sunspear with his wife’s family. Unlike the flower gardens of Highgarden, she would be given space in the Water Gardens of the Martells. She’d been there a few times, with Egg and Rhaenys, when she was very young. Doubtless, she would be treated well by the Sand Snakes and Arianne Martell and Prince Doran. Viserys was another matter, however. Like as not, she would be unsafe in Sunspear. Either she would suffer his advances in silence, or she would run into an unfortunate accident. If her child was born a boy, it might not be so bad; her son might even be made consort to one of Arianne’s daughters. If her child was a girl, things would be just as bad for her daughter as it would be for her.

It had been particularly suprising when Lords Dondarrion and Lannister had offered to allow her to reside in their courts. The Lightning Lord of the Stormlands also made the offer of letting her remain unwed, as he said he had great respect for the gallant (be damned that word) and brave Ser Garlan Tyrell. Most likely, he would have her unborn child marry his first son or daughter, as soon as the genders matched. The imp propbably had a similar plan, except it, considering the man’s reputation, she would probably be made to bed him whenever he decided that he wanted a princess.

So, this had all led to her current choice: wandering around the land of her ancestors, Dragonstone. Egg and Rhaenys insisted that she live here, and it was a better choice than most. But, she was still just some widow living in the castle of her relatives, when it came down to it; as soon as Egg or Rhaenys (more likely Rhaenys) had some use for her that wouldn’t harm her, she would be doing that. So, for now, she just wandered. At first, the gardens of the conqueror had amazed her; then, she explored the harbors and met quite a few interesting foreigners who had come for trade. The former, she got bored of more quickly than she had expected. The latter, Egg had advised against, for her safety.

Now she just silently explored the tunnels under Dragonstone. She’d found nothing of interest so far, this was only a distraction from her memories. Despite her annoyance with his repetitive mourners, her heart was still broken from his death. He was a good man, and kind, and loving; to her, these were worth more than any repution for a knight. She would never see his smile again, and he would never hold her again.

Dany sighed as she walked down a slope, a torch in her hand. There was something at the bottom of the slope, it seemed. She carefully continued down, until she reached the object. It was a wooden box. Strange. It was probably some private treasure of one of her ancestors, maybe gold. But, for a member of the royal family, a chest of gold wasn’t that important, really. Perhaps she could use it to buy…well, yeah, she couldn’t use it for anything. If she wanted anything, it would probably be given to her.

Dany opened the box and looked inside. There were three large gemstones. The one to the left was black with flecks of crimson, like the colors of her family’s banner. On the right, the gemstone was white, with a streak of black. The middle one was emerald, with swirls of gold. It reminded her of the Tyrell banners, with the gold rose on green. Dany reached out and picked up the black gemstone…only…the stone was warm. It felt so…alive. As she held it, she felt like she could see the crimson flecks moving and the inside of the stone grow warmer.

Dany carried the black stone back up through the tunnel, intent on finding Rhaenys and leading her back here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are, and the epilogue that I still haven't completely finished is fast approaching.
> 
> To those of you who made it this far: Thanks!
> 
> As always, I appreciate any and all criticism/advice. I'm still looking for an idea for new interludes for upcoming fanfictions, so any recommendations would be appreciated. In addition, if there's any character I should mainly follow in the next story set in this timeline, I'd appreciate an idea of which to go with first. I'm planning on having at least two seperate stories taking place at the same time, with different characters leading each story.
> 
> Dragon name ideas are welcome, preferably ones not taken by other dragons. I have three decent names cooked up, but I'm always up for better ideas.


	38. Chapter 30: Rhaenys Targaryen II

### Chapter 30: Princess Rhaenys Targaryen II, 29 September 298 AC

Rhaenys sat meditating in the room she had been sharing with Egg since they’re arrival at Dragonstone. Ever since her marriage, she’d been the lady of Dragonstone; though her official title was only as the wife of the lord, being Master of Whispers ensured that she would be able to do plenty to keep Dragonstone secure, which had taken the lion’s share of her time recently. Normally, this level of stress might have made it difficult to concentrate, but Egg’s black candle made it extremely easy to focus. But, no, she was able to sit and focus on other matters. With Egg’s black glass candle in front of her, it was easy for her to concentrate.

As she lost herself in the lights of the candle, she felt herself slowly move upwards. Almost like a dragon, she felt herself fly through the air, through the walls, through the ceiling. There, in the conqueror’s garden, she saw Egg and Darkstar. They’d spent a bit of time there nearly every day since they’d come to Dragonstone; more than a bit of time on some days. She never did have the heart to tell Egg that she preferred when he was out of the way, sometimes; it was always easier to discuss serious matters with the Monford, Aurane, and Ardrian without Egg and Darkstar to slow down the meetings.

As if a tether was dragging her, she flew over the Narrow Sea, the world a blur under her. She stopped again, over Lys, where the witch from earlier was speaking with some older Lyseni man. Before she could even try to get an idea of the situation, she was being pulled away again. She stopped again, in Norvos, where a man with brown hair and purple eyes held up a spear, which had golden skulls attached to it; the pseudo-banner of the Golden Company. Next, she found herself above Volantis, where a man with the multi-colored sigil of Brightflame was eating an apple and discussing something with slavers. She felt herself being dragged through the air again, and then suddenly everything went blank.

“Rhaenys!” Dany shouted at her, shaking her awake.

“Dany?” Rhaenys looked up at her aunt, slowly coming back to her senses. “What…what’s going on? You know I said that no one should wake me up when I’m in here.”

As if Rhaenys hadn’t said anything, Dany continued, “Rhaenys, I found this stone in the tunnels! And two other ones!” Daenerys held up a black and red dragon egg.

“Dany…where in the tunnels did you find that?” Rhaenys asked carefully.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To those of you who made it this far: Thanks!
> 
> As always, I appreciate any and all criticism/advice. I'm still looking for an idea for new interludes for upcoming fanfictions, so any recommendations would be appreciated. In addition, if there's any character I should mainly follow in the next story set in this timeline, I'd appreciate an idea of which to go with first. I'm planning on having at least two seperate stories taking place at the same time, with different characters leading each story.
> 
> Dragon name ideas are welcome, preferably ones not taken by other dragons. I have three decent names cooked up, but I'm always up for better ideas.
> 
> Now, to finish up the epilogue. Any encouragement for the last leg of this marathon will make it easier on me.


	39. Epilogue I: King Rhaegar Targaryen

### Epilogue I: King Rhaegar Targaryen, 1 July 301 AC

On the twenty-seventh day of June, the three-hundred and first year since the conquest, and the fourteenth name day of Princess Visenya Targaryen, Princess Visenya was wedded to Prince Aegon Targaryen of Dragonstone.

King Rhaegar had been sure to prepare everything for this day, though his children had almost ruined it. Thankfully, he was in power. And the three heads of the dragon were assembled. His heir, Aegon of Dragonstone, had been in the Red Keep for three days straight, the longest amount of time since Aegon had taken up residence in Dragonstone about three years ago. And, he was finally married to both of the other two heads of the dragon.

A few days prior had been the second name day of Aegon and Rhaenys’s own son, Daeron; the beginning of the year had seen the birth of their first daughter, Elia. Rhaegar had so many reasons to see the recent fortune as a sign from the gods that all his work would pay off handsomely.

Not to say that there hadn’t been setbacks. He’d been forced to reveal Jon as a bastard when the boy betrayed House Targaryen by leaving the Red Keep to take up residence in Dragonstone; for the sake of some alliance or other, the boy had ended up married to the younger sister of the attempted-kingslayer Tyrell. Ever since that marriage, the bastard had taken up the dynastic name ‘Sandstar’. If Rhaegar hadn’t had to have Ashara executed a few months after he was forced to reveal her infedility, he might have even been invited to that wedding; it was still so offensive to not invite the king to such an ostentatious wedding, though. But, as he considered himself merciful, he publicly forgave the Tyrells for this offense, and he was even kind enough to invite them to his wedding to a woman from the ruins surrounding Old Valyria, a woman named Vogarra, who had the silver hair of someone with the blood of the dragon.

Rhaegar supposed that Tyrion was right about all of this: we’re all puppets on the strings of those who came before us. Tyrion had been so kind and helpful in the past couple of years; the dwarf was probably the most loyal of Rhaegar’s supporters, currently. Of course, he also had Dondarrion firmly on his side. Between the gold of the Westerlands and the military strength of the Stormlands, along with his predestined victory, Rhaegar felt like things were stable for all of his plans, and that it had all gone nearly perfect so far.

Unfortunately, ‘nearly perfect’ meant that there were flaws. His eldest son, Aegon, was too annoyingly stubborn. The boy should have learned not to fight against fate; he would always lose when he tried to fight fate. There were rumors that the Dornish and Reachmen were planning a rebellion to end Rhaegar’s reign prematurely and set Aegon on the throne. In addition, there were some claims by the eunuch that Stark was making discrete plans to set Orys on the throne, but those were probably groundless; Rhaegar didn’t want to end up like his father, seeing rebellion behind every corner.

As soon as the wedding had ended and Aegon had been allowed to return to Dragonstone, Rhaegar had set to work with the last important part of his plans. The formal announcement of Aegon’s marriage, along with the biggest announcement since his coronation: King Rhaegar Targaryen and Crown Prince Aegon Targaryen had converted away from the Faith of the Seven, and would be taking up the beliefs of the Valyrian Freehold. Aegon had yet to learn of this, naturally, but the loyal vassals of the Iron Throne would understand and remain loyal. Rhaegar was sure of it. If they did otherwise, it was a sign that they were working against his goal of saving the realm from the Others. Anyone who would betray humanity and help the Others was someone who had to die, naturally.

In the days since the announcements, Rhaegar had suffered more than a few moments of doubt; he’d even once contemplated drinking wildfire, just in case that was the only way to ensure the return of dragons. Alright, maybe he had had that contemplation more than once. But, the gods had drawn his father into drinking wildfire, and that hadn’t worked out; it was a sign that Rhaegar shouldn’t try that option. But, the choice still felt like a good choice…but, he had to resist.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ah, the first part of the epilogue. I'm currently working on the third and final part of the epilogue, so this will all be over soon.
> 
> As I've mentioned, the story will probably have branch-sequels, each following a different character. Maybe two, maybe three. Any recommendations over which character's story you'd like to see first, if any, would be appreciated.
> 
> Also, I'd love any criticism or advice about any chapters I've written so far.
> 
> Just as a note, the first prologue and first epilogue were both focused on 'ambitious' kings.


	40. Epilogue II: Prince Aegon Targaryen

### Epilogue II: Prince Aegon Targaryen, 1 August 301 AC

‘The First Men Rebellion’ was what they were calling this war. Ever since the conversion that Aegon hadn’t been consulted about, Eddard Stark had been calling in allies to get Rhaegar off of the throne. At that point, Aegon might have sided with Stark against his father, but Stark also wanted to remove Aegon from the succession. Of course, Stark wanted to place Orys on the throne. He probably would have wanted to put Jon on the throne if not for Rhaegar revealing Jon’s true parentage.

While the North alone would be a difficult enemy to face, Stark did have powerful allies fighting with him. Lord Paramount Theon Greyjoy of the Iron Isles and Lord Paramount Denys Arryn of the Vale had immediately supported the rebellion; while the Ironborn ships were attacking the coasts of the Reach, the Westerlands, and Dorne, the Vale soldiers had started a march into the Riverlands. Lord Paramount Edmure Tully, against the counsel of his wife Amerei Frey, ended up siding with the rebels.

But, there hadn’t been a large scale battle, yet. Today would change that. At Blackwater Rush, the Aegon had a little over fifty thousand warriors ready, all from the Crownlands or Stormlands. According to this scouts, the Riverlanders, Northmen, and Valemen had an army eighty-thousand strong. Aegon would probably be able to see their army in the distance soon.

On his right was Gerold, and on his left was Sandor. Aegon put his helmet on. “Looks like it’s time for someone to die, Darkstar, Hound.”

Lowering the hound-face of his helmet, Sandor grunted. Gerold unsheathed Dawn and spoke up, “It’s time for them to die, Egg.”

“Someone,” Aegon repeated himself, trying not to sound as worried as he was. If they lost this battle, then that would give the rebels a major advantage.

“That someone could be Rhaenys. That someone could be Daeron or Elia.” That infernal voice whispered into his ear.

“Dammit, I know that!” Aegon shouted.

“Egg, what did you just hear?” Gerold asked, immediately turning his head to look at Aegon.

“It was just…nothing.” Aegon lied.

“If it’s not my voice, ignore it for a while, alright? This is a really bad time for you to have another one of your episodes.” Gerold said.

“He’s just trying to set you up for failure.” The voice whispered. “You don’t want that, do you? Daeron and Elia will die, all because you were too stupid to leave a battle that you weren’t prepared for. You should run away now, while there’s still a chance to get away and protect them. You could take your children far away, to the East, where it’s safe. All you’d have to do is abandon this hellhole.”

It was a good idea. Aegon could leave someone in charge of this army, and he could get back to King’s Landing by the river and out into the bay; from there, it wouldn’t take very long to get a ship all the way to Dragonstone. He could get three of his best ships, fill them with treasures, and get his people to safety. Most of the people he cared about were in Dragonstone, already. He would just get them onto the ship: his children, Elia and Daeron; his wives, Rhaenys and Visenya; Jon and his wife, Margaery; Dany and her son, Gwayne; Valarr and Alysanne could be picked up from King’s Landing; and Gerold and Sandor could come with him on his escape. He’d have to leave Aurane in charge of Dragonstone, while he was gone, though.

No, he couldn’t leave his army. That would hurt morale. Aegon had to take the risk and face this battle. Most of these soldiers were prepared to die here, and he couldn’t take the coward’s way out.

“So you condemn your family to being captured and tortured, raped and killed, just so that you can die a brave death instead of losing your reputation?” The voice asked.

“Darkstar, Hound, get to Dragonstone as fast as you can. Get my family somewhere safe, somewhere far from the Crownlands.” Aegon said.

“Your chances look that bad, huh?” Gerold replied.

“These are good men, in this army.” Aegon pointed out. “I’ll be fine…just…just in case, you know? Take some ships and don’t let my children get captured.”

“Egg…no matter what happens today, no matter how this rebellion goes…Daeron will be the king on the Iron Throne someday, alright?” Gerold frowned.

“Bugger that.” Aegon snapped at his friend. “Just keep them safe and happy. That’s all.”

“You’re ordering me to leave you here? To possibly die for your father’s idiocy?” Gerold asked.

“I’m asking you. I’m asking you and Sandor, as your friend. Protect my family. By the time this rebellion is over, my line possibly won’t have the authority to order either of you to do anything.”

Sandor took his helmet back off. “Egg.” The Hound said. The Hound sounded angry, but he hadn’t been able to say anything without sounding angry ever since his jaw got messed up. “Do. Not. Die.” He ordered.

“Just hurry, before it’s too late. Their army will be here soon enough.” Aegon replied. “And tell Rhaenys that I love her. Tell her that I’ve always loved her, and every moment with her was better than I could have asked for.”

“You’ll never see her again.” The voice whispered.

“It’s dangerous to go alone.” Gerold held up Dawn. “Take this, Egg. It’ll help you cut down those cunts faster. The sooner this battle is over, the sooner you can join us and stay out of Westeros for a while.”

“I’m not a Dayne.” Aegon pointed out. “I can’t even touch that sword.”

“Get over it. It’s just a sharp sword, no better than any other sharp sword. Besides, your great-grandmother or whatever was a Dayne, so it’s fine.” Gerold offered the sword, handle first, to Aegon.

Aegon couldn’t help but stare at the pale blade, better and rarer than even Valyrian Steel. “Gerold….”

“Just make sure you return it next time we see each other, alright?” Gerold patted his friend’s shoulder.

The Hound embraced Aegon silently.

Then, Aegon watched as his two closest living friends left. And he swallowed his fear, and he tried to ignore the voice’s accusations that he was an idiot and that his family would be captured by the rebels, and he shouted, “Fire and Blood!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Done with the second part of the epilogue. I've finished the final bit, and all that's left is to upload this epilogue and then the third epilogue, then it's all over.
> 
> As I've mentioned, the story will probably have branch-sequels, each following a different character. Maybe two, maybe three. Any recommendations over which character's story you'd like to see first, if any, would be appreciated.
> 
> Also, I'd love any criticism or advice about any chapters I've written so far.
> 
> Just as a note, the second prologue and second epilogue were both focused on the prince that was supposed to fix everything. Thanks a lot, Rhaegar and Egg.


	41. Epilogue III: Sandor Clegane

### Epilogue III: Sandor Clegane, 15 August 301 AC

The raven had arrived in King’s Landing the day before they got there. Once they were told about how the battle of Blackwater Rush had ended, he and Gerold had only stayed there long enough for Gerold to get a small and fast ship to get them and Egg’s youngest siblings to Dragonstone. Unfortunately, King Rhaegar refused to allow them to take any members of the royal family to safety; he’d told them that if they didn’t bring the rest of the Targaryens from Dragonstone to the Red Keep, he’d declare them traitors to the realm.

Gerold agreed to this demand, promising the king that he would bring back his family. Sandor doubted that Gerold was being honest about that. They were on a ship to Dragonstone that night. By the fifteenth of August, they were landing at Dragonstone, where Visenya was sitting at the docks, twisting her black streak of hair.

“Visenya,” Gerold got off of the ship, walking towards the fourteen-year-old Targaryen princess. “I assume you’ve heard the news.”

Sandor figured that Gerold could be more gentle with the girl, but he couldn’t think of a gentler thing to say, even if he could talk without such trouble. No doubt Gerold was feeling as broken as Sandor was. Egg was a right prick sometimes, but he was a good man; Sandor was used to being the Hound, the Hound that got kicked by people that didn’t learn to fear him. But, every hound needs a master, and Egg was always good to him; what more could he have asked for in a liege? Or in a friend?

“Egg was slain in battle.” Visenya said softly and slowly, as if she was measuring each word before she spoke.

“We heard. In King’s Landing, we were told. No doubt the rebel army is headed straight for King’s Landing.” Gerold informed. “Aegon asked us to come to Dragonstone and keep you safe.”

In an attempt to assure the princess, Sandor patted the hilt of his greatsword.

Visenya looked up at Gerold’s face. “Did he say anything before you left? Did my husband say anything about me before he died?”

Sandor looked back and forth, between Gerold and Visenya. Hopefully Gerold would lie to her.

After a few moments, Gerold nodded. “Visenya, Aegon said that he loves you. He said that he wishes he could have given you more of his time, and he said that he doesn’t want any harm to come to you. I suppose protecting you Targaryens is our job now.”

“Rhaenys said we’d have to leave soon. She’s been preparing a few ships since Aegon left….” Visenya told them.

“She’s clever. No surprise that she had an escape planned.” Gerold turned to face Sandor. “Hound, let’s get these people gathered and get the hell away from Westeros, yeah?” Gerold started walking to the castle.

Sandor started to follow him, but stopped in front of where Visenya sat. He knelt down in front of her, and noticed that she was shaking a little, and her eyes were wet. He desperately wanted to say something, something that would make this easier on her. But anything he said would come out sounding monstrous and simple. Instead, he picked her up and carried her with them. She didn’t resist or make a noise, she just held onto him.

Once they reached the castle, they entered the main hall, where Rhaenys sat, discussing some matter or other with some maester. As soon as she saw them, she sent the maester away. “Darkstar, Hound, Visenya,” Rhaenys greeted, seeming as though it was just a casual visit; like her husband hadn’t recently died. It almost made Sandor feel a bit sick.

“Fireknight,” Gerold returned the greeting. “The time has come for you and your lot to leave. According to your sister, you’ve been prepared for some time.”

“Yes, I suppose it has.” Rhaenys shrugged. “I have some ships prepared.”

“Where will we go?” Gerold inquired. “Myr? Lys? Pentos?”

“Well, you will go wherever you think is best.” Rhaenys answered. “I will go where I think is best.”

“Aegon told us to protect you.” Gerold pointed out. “We’ll be going with you.”

“With Aegon’s death, my son Daeron is the new crown prince and the new Lord of Dragonstone. That means that I am the regent, and I am in control.” Rhaenys explained. “We’ll be dividing the ships.”

“Aegon would have wanted us to keep you all together.” Gerold said bluntly.

“Aurane Waters, Daario Naharis, and I will be leaving on my best ship tomorrow, ‘Mysaria’, along with a decent crew.” Rhaenys ignored Gerold, instead speaking directly to Visenya. “Jon, Margaery, Gwayne, Darkstar, Daeron, Elia, and yourself will be leaving for Highgarden on Aegon’s best ship, ‘Caraxes’. Dany will go to Sunspear with the Hound on another of the ships, ‘Syrax’; once she’s explained the situation to her brother Viserys, she will join the rest of you in Highgarden. I have had ample time to prepare all three ships for your voyages. You’ll all be leaving tonight. Of course, there will be a good wet nurse on the Caraxes ship.”

“Rhaenys, splitting all of you up seems like a very bad idea.” Gerold said.

“I’ve made my decision.” Rhaenys said simply, waving her hand in a gesture of telling the them to leave. “Gather the others and follow my orders.”

“And you have nothing to say about Aegon’s death?” Gerold questioned; even from behind him, the Hound could guess that Gerold was giving the princess a death glare.

Rhaenys narrowed her eyes at him. “An unfortunate setback; maybe a year ago I would have wept. Be gone; as I’ve said, you have your orders. For the love that Aegon held for you, and for the sake of your apparent unhappiness with his fate, I will forgive you this time. But, I would advise that you go before my mercy runs dry.”

As Gerold turned and stomped out of the room, Sandor Clegane tried to force out one syllable at a time. “He would have wept for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A moment of silence, to honor the fallen of this AAR.


	42. Credits

Figured I'd end my first story with this.

Thanks to SolitarusVirtus for the comments early on that were great encouragement. Thanks to LightDrive for realizing that Baelor the Blessed is Forrest Gump. Thanks to Hydrobot for the comments, as well.

For being kind enough to give kudos to an amateurs work, thanks to Azaneti, Rhaena_Starkgaryen, Aurora_Sand, Sunwoo14, Miaous, and the 32 guests. And thanks to anyone who else who leaves comments or kudos in the future; mostly, thanks for just taking the time to look at my attempt at an AAR fanfiction.

And special thanks to Chrystofer and Stephanie.

Now if only I could think of a good nickname for Daeron II while Daeron the Young Dragon is alive, so he can call his cousin by something other than his own name....


End file.
